Healed
by sparkles59
Summary: How I wish things had happened for Dany and Drogo after sacking the village of the Lhazareen.
1. Chapter 1

The khalasar made camp just outside the Lhazareen village. Daenerys was curled up on her cushions while she was finishing her supper, one hand on her large belly as Rhaego kicked at her. Drogo picked at the poultice the godswife had prepared for his chest wound, thinking about how he was going to get rid of it.

"Don't," Dany said softly, pulling his hand away from it. "Let it work."

"It burns," he replied. "I want it off. It should be sealed with river mud, not this stinking green paste. It smells bad."

"Let me see," she said, crawling over to him from her side of their low table, mindful of her actively kicking baby within. She looked closely at where he'd been picking at it, seeing inflamed skin and more swelling than before it had been tended to. Carefully, she lifted a dried corner of the poultice, and gasped. Red and oozing, the wound already smelled foul and infected. Dany grabbed a cloth from the table and began wiping it off. "Drogo, this is bad. Very bad. I think . . . I think she tried to make this _worse!" _She called out for Irri and Jhiqui to bring her hot water.

After the water was brought, she dismissed them both, not wanting it to get out that their Khal was ill. She bathed his wound thoroughly, making apologetic sounds as he grunted and tried to not show how much it hurt.

"Drogo, I don't know what to do for it . . . the river is too far away, and I wouldn't trust anyone here now to help. I would go to the midwives, but that raises questions." She glanced up from her work helplessly, hoping he had an idea she hadn't thought of.

"Leave it be for now," he said, rolling his shoulder to dispel some of the pain.

"I don't know. Should it be so exposed?" she asked.

He chuckled darkly. "I've not ever tried it. We can reach the river by tomorrow night if we ride hard." He glanced down at her growing belly apologetically.

She sighed. Hard riding meant a very uncomfortable day for her, and he knew it. Rhaego had only a few weeks left before he would look upon his father's face.

"I will go to the midwives tent now," she said, kissing him softly on the cheek and raking her fingers through his beard. "Something must be done before we reach the river."

Drogo finished his meal before she returned. He was immensely relieved to get that poultice off his chest, the itching and painful burning gone. It just throbbed and stung where his little Moon had scrubbed at it, but it felt better already. It felt clean, he realized. He smiled to himself. She sure did THAT part well, but dammit it had hurt.

She returned shortly, carrying a wineskin and a small bag. Dany kicked off her shoes and entered her home, finding Drogo exactly where she left him. She took a deep breath as she knelt down next to him.

"I need to sew it. And pour wine on it," she said haltingly.

"No, you're not doing either of those things," he replied, not liking where this was going at all.

"I will do whatever it takes to make this happen," she warned, taking the needle out of the bag and setting it and the small bundle of costly gossamer thread next to it.

"You're not touching it again tonight," he stated flatly. He eyed the needle. Fuck, that was going to hurt worse than the actual cut. He looked away from the glinting steel, trying to hide his reaction to it.

"You'd better bite on your arakh blade then, my Sun and Stars. I'm sewing it." Daenerys had her jaw set, and he knew it would be like taking a bone from a starving dog to get her to relent. It secretly pleased him that she had gotten brave enough to argue with him. It satisfied him greatly that the timid and frightened girl he had married was gone, and such a strong woman had taken her place. His fierce equal in every way.

He started to stand up, and she grabbed his shoulders. "Don't. You. Dare." She said it more threateningly than she meant and then locked her eyes with his as she pushed down on his shoulders. "I'm scared, Drogo. I'm scared to do this, but I'm more afraid of what will happen if I don't."

He saw the truth in her words, and sat down again, silently giving her permission. She kissed him then, deeply and with love. "Better grab that blade, my little Moon," he teased, then pulled her back for another kiss before letting her go, caressing her large belly. _His son._

She grabbed a clean, empty bowl and poured some wine into it, then dropped the bundle of thread in. She held the needle over an open flame until it grew red and hot, then dipped it in the wine next to the thread. He watched as she threaded the needle, knotted it, and brought it to his open cut. It had started oozing again, but it was only clear fluid now, instead of the thick and foul smelling pus. She glanced up at his face, and let him see her fear.

"Do it if you're going to," he taunted her. "I'm wanting to go to bed."

She smiled then. "I'm sorry that this is really, really going to hurt," and drove the needle through his flesh.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The stitches were not even, nor were they remotely tidy. He guessed that she'd never done any sewing at all before having a go at his chest. He would wear the scar proudly, he decided. Fucker hurt like mad, though. He almost wished she had brought him the arakh. Drogo carried her to the bed immediately after she covered it with a cloth, and convinced her that if she rode him he would accept that as an apology.

They camped next to the river that next night, but Drogo passed on the mud. He found he rather liked the attention she gave him as she bathed his healing stitches with the wine in the morning and again that night, despite the pain it caused.

Dany sighed as she finished tending to his wound, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. Her back and hips were aching worse than she'd ever known. She had spent most of the day at a trot on her silver mare, and it had taken its toll on her body. What had made it worthwhile was she had seen the large group of slaves from the Lhazareen village, and the godswife was among them. She did not say anything about it to Drogo, however. Mercy would be shown by Dany keeping quiet and letting the woman be sold in Astapor for a good price, gold to buy ships. Ships that would reach Westeros with the entire khalasar on board.

Drogo moved to sit behind her on the bed, and dug his thumbs into her low back, trying to get the muscles to release their tension. She moaned quietly, out of pain and relief, and then leaned back into his touch. He rubbed for a few minutes, then pulled her down to lay next to him. He ran his hands over her belly, tracing one of the few bright pink marks where her skin was stretching to accommodate the growth of their son. Rhaego kicked back at his father, and Dany stayed quiet and amused as they pushed and prodded each other.

She drifted off into sleep, father and son still interacting. She was wakened by Drogo's kiss between her breasts, his hands shifting from playful to loving. He touched her softly in long, warm strokes down her arms and over her breasts, fingers tickling slightly as they brushed her thighs and belly. He kissed her mouth gently but thoroughly, trying to show her how much he loved her, though he had no word for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, guys. I didn't expect so many to follow and review my story! Thank you so much! :D This chapter took more work than I thought it would, let me know if it's okay?

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Daenerys noticed the grass was changing. It was growing more sparse, with clumps of hardened, dry dirt in between. There were more rocks, too. Big and sharp, her silver mare had stumbled a few times on them, each time startling Dany and making her heart pound in her chest. It always sent Rhaego to rolling and kicking her uncomfortably. The khalasar moved at a slow and steady pace through the grass, leaving a swath of pounded ground and dirt behind. Dust swirled around, and by the end of each day Dany had sweat streaks over every part of skin she could see, and mud in her clothes where the dust would get trapped. She had watched the sun reach its zenith and then start its descent to the west, burning warmer every day as the week ended and the waxing moon grew in the night sky. She supposed they were getting close to the Red Waste, where they would cross the desert and make for Astapor to sell the slaves. She suspected that Drogo was keeping the slow pace for her sake. A safe place with water and food for her to birth his son was ideal so the entire khalasar could celebrate with the Khal and she could rest a few days before remounting her silver mare.

She searched for Drogo, gently urging her horse into a trot to quickly find him in the slow paced khalasar. He had started to ride near the group of Lhazareen slaves to keep a close eye on them, instead of at the front. Dany didn't blame him, wanting to keep an eye on them herself, the godswife in particular. She still didn't know if Drogo had seen her in the group, he never said. She had seen the woman hide her face many times from the blood riders, and Dany had caught her eye just moments before the witch would cover her face and duck back into the safety of the crowd.

She was relieved when she saw Drogo, as he was heading off the khalasar to circle and prepare to make camp for the night. She rode up to him as he directed the people around him, her eyes meeting his. Immediately, he was reaching up for her and lifting her off the mare, helping her down, as she could no longer do it herself.

She walked a little ways from the main encampment, finding a stream of fresh water rushing over rounded stones. She gestured for her slaves to start assembling the Khal's great tent nearby on a level bank, holding her belly with her other hand, feeling Rhaego stir at the change of movement of walking instead of riding.

Dany found a quiet place to sit and relax while the tents and fires were built. She let her eyes close while waiting, listening to the sounds around her, relaxing her body. _One week more_, she reminded herself. _One week more and we can rest for at least a few days while Rhaego and I recover from his birth. I will hold him soon._ Her hands instinctively went around her belly, holding him gently, feeling him wiggle around and push back at her. She was tired of being huge and ungainly, tired of aching and being tired. She supposed the tired part wasn't going to end soon, having seen new babes often in the khalasar, and heard their seemingly unending demands of their mothers.

When the Khal's tent was ready, Doreah came to her, helping her up gently and walking with her inside. Food was already waiting for her, and her prepared bed. She was glad to see both, and while she ate, she sat on the soft cushions, her back sore and aching from the long days of riding, taking a moment to rest herself while waiting for Drogo to come home after overseeing the setup.

As soon as the Khal had entered the tent, Daenerys was quickly guiding him to sit, removing the bandage covering his wound. He knew better than to fight it by now, and submitted silently to her treatment, hiding his amusement. It really didn't hurt much anymore, especially since she had removed the stitches, but he was not about to deny her the chance to tend to him. He had been warned by his blood riders that to argue with his woman when she was so close to birth was not going to end well for him, and the path of least resistance was generally the best way to keep the peace in his house.

She washed the healing tissue with cooled boiled water and a clean cloth, then dabbed at it softly with the wine that had turned to vinegar. He remained silent, unflinching, though Dany knew it still had to sting something awful. Patting it dry, she looked up at him and smiled. "Better than yesterday," she murmured, bending forward as much as her bulky body would allow and kissed his cheek. "It's leaving a mighty scar, my Sun and Stars."

"Pain is less every day, my Moon_,"_ he agreed, turning his head to kiss her back and laying both hands on her large belly gently. "How is my son?" Rhaego immediately responded, kicking back at his father's hands. "He is sleeping lower in your belly today."

"Is he? I haven't noticed," she replied. "He's been quieter today. I think he's finally run out of room. The midwife says only a week or so more, and he will look upon your face."

Drogo bent his head slightly towards her pregnant body. "Wait for us to cross the Red Waste, my son," he said. "There is much hardship there. Wait until we reach the black waters and a comfortable place for your mother to birth you."

Daenerys smiled and went about cleaning up the mess after washing his wound. The midwife had said only a week more, at most, but Dany hoped that Rhaego would either wait for the desert crossing to be over, or be born before, not during. She wanted to have him in their home with just the midwife and maybe Irri and Doreah there, no one else, and certainly not on the road in the hot sun for everyone to see. She wished Dothraki custom would allow Drogo to stay with her, since she knew he would be the greatest source of strength for her in her labor. Instead, he would be pushed out by the midwife in ceremonial fashion, where he would be greeted by his blood riders at the door. He would be carried off to feasting and other distractions while she labored. Someone would be sent to call him home after Rhaego was born, after she and the infant had rested and bonded for a few hours.

She was nervous, having heard the screams of birthing women in the khalasar. Daenerys was no stranger to pain, but it was the loss of the one mother and child a few months past that worried her most. The khalasar had not stopped for the mother, and she had been birthing in a cart with no assistance, where her bleeding was not stopped, and the baby died along with her. "First babies are the most difficult to predict," the midwife had said, and it did nothing to calm Dany's fears, but her longing to hold her son were stronger than her fears. Her hands instinctively went around her growing bulge, feeling him wiggle and push back at her. Dany wondered, not for the first time, what her son looked like, how little he was, how his voice would sound.

Dany comforted herself with the knowledge that she would be attended. She had glanced around her carefully as they traveled, noting that these past few days her handmaidens were never far behind her. The midwife that was to attend her had been mysteriously gifted a horse as well. _I wonder how that happened,_ she wryly thought to herself.

Irri brought supper to them, and then arranged cushions to give Dany a massage, sprinkling her with oils and rubbing all the knots out of her back and shoulders. Drogo watched for a few minutes, then left to tend to horses and work his way through his blood riders' fires for drink and gambling, making sure his presence was known and felt for his people.

Dany lay quietly after her muscles were relieved of their tension, the residual warmth making her sleepy. Rhaego stirred within her lazily, and she stroked her side where he pushed with his foot. She pushed back at him, gently, and he retracted from her ribs. "Thank you," she whispered to him, smiling. "That hurts me, my son."

She wandered her way outside, not bothering to tie her hair up to keep it out of her face. The winds were picking up as the sun sank below the horizon, blowing her white blonde hair in her face and around her as she walked, listening for her husband's voice amongst the many fires and voices.

There were many voices coming from the edge of the vast khalasar. Daenerys made her way slowly toward the commotion, finding her husband easily enough in the crowd. He was at least a head taller than even his tallest blood riders. She realized the Dothraki riders were surrounding the Lhazareen slaves, and the shouts were demands for the witch to show herself. Cohollo, blood of her blood and Drogo's closest friend, had spotted the godswife and had immediately gone to his Khal and demanded her head.

Daenerys stepped into the crowd near Drogo, reaching for him quietly in the throng. He turned and immediately pulled her close. "Did you know she was here?" he demanded harshly.

She looked in his eyes and nodded. "I thought she was. She would hide her face as soon as I would ride by."

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "She has been using the other slaves to carry plants for poisons, Daenerys. She was looking to poison you and our son."

Daenerys kept her eyes locked on his, and uttered words she never thought she would say. "Let her walk behind your red until she stumbles. Then we burn her." Rage burned in her as hot as the sun baking the earth to clay. _My son. She was going to kill my baby. _She trembled and shook in her rage, and Drogo let her go, looking at her strangely. Her skin burned hot to the touch, and he could feel it through her clothes.

_Daughter of dragons,_ he thought, amazed. He hadn't given it much thought, the symbol of her family, the rantings of her insane brother. He reached out cautiously and took her hand, looking at her mother's ring on her finger. A dragon with ruby eyes gleamed back at him from a little finger almost too hot to touch. She had always felt warm to him, even more so after she conceived, but this was blinding hot rage. It couldn't possibly be good for Rhaego to be so warm inside her, but then again, he was blood of the dragons, too.

"I'm taking you back to the tent," he said. "Let's walk."

The growing dark and the many fires guided them toward the water, where he had her sit very near where she had earlier that day. "I want to see her burn, Drogo." Her own voice terrified her, remembering Ser Jorah telling her of her father's last days. "_Burn them all,"_ were the Mad King Aerys' last words as the Kingslayer stabbed him in the back. She briefly wondered who had prompted his fall into madness. Her mother? His? Surely not her brother Rhaegar.

"You will. I promise to the Mother of the Mountain and the stars in the sky, you shall see that, my fierce little Moon," he said quietly, looking down at the rushing little stream. He hoped the cool air and maybe the sound of the water would calm her down from her fevered anger. _Water to cool fire._

He sat next to her, and pulled her to lean on his shoulder. They sat in silence for long minutes, just breathing together. "You are safe now," he murmured, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head as his hand went to touch her ripe belly. "Rhaego, too."

She sighed softly. "I know. You've made us safe, my Sun and Stars."


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter is rated "M" for graphic/detailed birth scene. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, but this is the only way I've known how to have a baby, and you write about what you know, right? If you're grossed out by this messy magic of womanhood, feel free to skip it, my feelings will not be hurt :)

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Dany could not find a comfortable place in the bed to sleep. She tried to roll over, her pelvis making its sickening pop sound like it had been for weeks as the bones slid past each other. Wincing in pain, she tried to roll back, her legs tangled in the blankets and her belly making it nearly impossible to move. Drogo simply began passing her all the cushions and pillows he could reach, and rolled over to continue snoring quietly. She looked over at him and sighed. _If only. _

She gave up trying, and rose from the bed. She dressed in her sleeping silks, which had been discarded at the foot of the bed after supper. Sitting down cross-legged with her back to the bed, she leaned back, the pressure in her pelvis and low back increasing as she did. She sat back up and sighed. The discomfort ebbed slowly but began to build again as she dozed off in her sitting position. She got up slowly, not wanting to disturb Drogo, and pulled her _hrakkar _pelt around her shoulders. She left the tent; the moon, stars, and a few low burning campfires her only light. She found her silver mare grazing close by, and she approached her, patting her neck and back and then scratching her lightly on the belly, as Dany knew she liked.

She suddenly found her face pressed into the mare's neck as another wave of aching overtook her low back and belly, and she realized what was happening. _Rhaego_, she thought to herself. She breathed in deeply through her nose, and slowly out through her mouth, willing her body to relax and let the contraction reach its peak and fade away. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself, relieved that he would be born before the desert crossing. She waited for the next tightening of her back and body to judge what she should do next. She didn't have long to wait, and hung on to her trusted mount for support. The mare stood patiently, shifting her feet and seemed to know she was needed.

She was so wrapped up in controlling her excitement and her breathing that she didn't hear Drogo approach her in the dark. "Why are you out here?" he whispered, coming to her and wrapping his large arms around her waist. He kissed her neck, nuzzling into her warmth.

"Waiting . . . waiting for . . . stop," she panted, hanging onto the horse, rocking back and forth slightly on her feet.

He pulled back, puzzled, and waited for her to finish.

"Rhaego is coming," she whispered as the deep ache ebbed away. "I came out to take a walk, couldn't sleep, and here . . . " She began to inhale a breath again, but he took her hand and gently led her back to their home, letting her stop when she needed to. By the time they got halfway, Drogo wasn't sure that the walking was good for her anymore, so he simply scooped her up and carried her.

Once inside, he set Dany down on her feet and sent the girl from Lys to bring the midwife. He took a few furs from the bed, and placed them outside, near the door. Dothraki men were not present for the birth of their children. They were chased out of the tent by the midwife and then taken to a blood rider's home by their friends, where they were a guest of honor and were fed and celebrated throughout the waiting time. The Khal's celebration had been in preparation for more than a week, befitting a khal of Drogo's status who was expecting a son.

On Doreah's return, he tenderly kissed Dany and held her close for a few moments, just holding her quietly in the dim light of the tent. "You are the Moon of my life, Daenerys. Rhaego is blessed to have you as his mother." And then he was gone. Dany stood, tears starting to sting her eyes, another wave of tightness passing through her body. She wanted to cry out for him to come back and stay with her, to help her not be afraid of her own body, but his words of love would have to carry her through.

The midwife sent her three handmaidens to bring water to fill her tub, and felt Dany's swollen belly. "The khal of khals has dropped," she said softly. "Let me feel your pains, child."

By the time the tub was filled and warming, Dany was rocking back and forth on her feet, moaning quietly, the midwife's hands around her belly. "Close together and strong," she said approvingly. She helped Dany kneel down on the floor and lean forward to rest her head on the bed. "Rock back and forth now as you need, Khaleesi. It will help the pains be their most effective." The midwife then brought out oils and showed the girls how to rub Dany's low back, firmly and repetitively, when a pain would wash through her. Before long, Dany's quiet moans were getting louder and longer as the pains began to come as quickly as the waves of water on the shore. Her body was moving of it's own accord, some ancient rhythm guiding her motions, seeking relief from the pressure and pain.

An intense pain peaked, Dany moaning with it when she felt an odd sensation, much like a bubble popping. A rush of warmth ran down her thighs, soaking the clean blanket beneath her with clear fluid. She looked up, horrified that she'd peed herself, before another intense wave of pain washed over her body and she gripped the bedding in front of her as she panted.

"Rhaego's waters, Khaleesi," one of the girls said, she wasn't sure which one was which at the moment, and kept rubbing her back. "He will be here soon."

"Let's in the tub with you," the midwife said gently, helping Dany to her feet. The few steps were agony, but she made the most of it, using the pains to propel her feet forward, a handmaiden on each arm. Leaning on the side of the tub, panting slightly, she said, "I don't think I can get in there, it's too much."

"You can, and relief awaits you in that water," the midwife told her firmly. "Rhaego will come more easily in the water, and you will need less time to heal after."

After two attempts and some help, Dany settled in the tub, breathing a sigh of relief. She could still feel every contraction, but with the water helping her be buoyant, they didn't seem to hurt nearly as much. The warm water lapped around her soothingly, and she watched with surprise as her belly would rise and harden, then subside only to start over again, the intense pain subdued somehow, but something more was happening, she wasn't sure what, just that it was _more._

Her stomach churned, and she started moving her hands over her mouth, not knowing the Dothraki words. The midwife immediately placed an empty bowl under her chin as Dany quietly vomited, and a gentle hand quickly wiped her mouth with a cool and wet cloth, removing the bowl only to quickly replace it before the water could be fouled with another round of nausea. "Good, my Khaleesi, this is good," the midwife said soothingly. "Your body knows what to do. It's getting rid of the food so it can work harder to bring your son. He will be here very soon, Khaleesi." Daenerys forced her anxiety away and she rested a moment before becoming sick again. Her nausea was over after the third round, her stomach empty, her body prepared now for the task ahead. She leaned over the side of the tub, her arms holding her up, simply floating in the warm water for a few minutes.

An intense wave of pressure overtook her body. "I can't do this anymore. . . I have to . . . " Dany started to sob, and lifted herself out of the water slightly, but before she could make it any further, four pairs of loving hands were helping her back down into the water. "No, I can't, I can't . . . " The midwife took her hands and spoke to her gently. "Yes, you can. You are almost ready to start pushing. You're doing well, everything is fine. You're safe, just let your body tell you what you need to do. Rhaego will be here very soon, and this will be over."

The next wave found Daenerys bearing down, feeling an odd sense of relief mingled in with the pain in the action. The midwife and Doreah were in front of her, guiding her, holding her arms and showing her how to breathe between pushes, Jhiqui and Irri behind her, rubbing her back and speaking soft, soothing words of encouragement. Dany soon found a rhythm in her agony, pushing with the waves of pain, taking a moment to breathe deeply and have a drink of cool water in between, only to moan quietly as the pain mounted again. Soon, her drinking water was changed to warm water laden with honey and herbs, the soothing words of her attendants blending together like the sweetness in her cup. There was nothing now but the waves of pain and the moments of rest afterwards, the warm and sweet water giving her energy and quenching her thirst before she had to push anew.

Again, Dany tried to get out of the tub, the intensity and pressure in her body overwhelming her. The midwife gently settled her back down in the water in a squatted position, and touched her _there,_ the source of her agony and pain. "He will be emerging soon, Khaleesi. Reach down and touch him if you like when you feel it." Soon, a burning sensation, and Dany couldn't stop herself. She let go of the edge of the tub and reached down with a shaking hand. Soft hair, not her own, and the top of her son's wrinkled scalp met her hand. She let out a quiet sob and pushed, hard, into her own hand. She felt her son surge forward, and then retreat slightly as the contraction died away. She panted, and took a deep breath through her nose as she waited another wave. The midwife's hand joined Dany's, felt briefly, and then began applying pressure around where he was emerging. "He will be here in just a few more pushes like that one, brave girl," she said softly. "You're doing everything right. He's almost here. It's almost over. Let your body tell you what to do." The older woman gestured for all the handmaidens to back off her and give her space to focus, using only a few whispered words and a kind smile.

Encouraged, she pushed harder with the next contraction, feeling Rhaego's head again advance, and recede slightly as before. Catching her breath, she pushed again, and felt him emerge a bit more, and stop. She rested for a moment, taking a deep drink of the honeyed herbs, panting lightly, and then took a deep breath through her nose to prepare for the next surging pain. When it came, Dany dug her heels into the bottom of the tub and pushed harder than she had before, gritting her teeth together with the pain and effort, and felt Rhaego's head break free of her body. The quiet panting sob that escaped her throat had the midwife's hand back, where she quickly guided Dany's fingers to search for the cord holding Rhaego's life to hers. A fluid movement had it unwrapped from where it was loosely around his neck. Dany shifted in the tub again so she was kneeling, sitting back on her feet, instantly more comfortable, though that wasn't the word she would have thought of at the time. Dany relaxed for a moment, breathing hard, the pause in the desperate urge to push was such a relief that she could catch her breath. When the next wave overtook her, she didn't resist it, and she began to push again, feeling the slick slide of his body leaving hers, taking her by surprise. "Oh!" she exclaimed quietly, and her other hand left the side of the tub. She grabbed Rhaego under the arms, using her fingers to support his neck and head as she brought him immediately up out of the water, the midwife's hands guiding hers and showing her how to hold him. He gasped and then made a little cough as she brought him quickly to her chest, and then he let out a long and loud cry of surprise before settling against his mother, quietly looking around, listening as her sobs of relief overtook his one cry.

The bells in his braid announced him as Drogo burst into the tent. "Rhaego?" he said softly, looking at Dany's exhausted and elated face, his relief obvious when Dany's eyes met his, her tears of complete and utter joy and relief gliding down her cheeks.

"Let me check," she said, her smile belaying her tears. She reached around her son and felt between his legs, pushing the still pulsing cord out of the way. "Yes. Rhaego," she affirmed, her voice a broken sob. Drogo swiftly knelt down next to her, cupping her face with large and gentle hands, kissing her lips, her cheeks, then on her forehead, his relief evident in his caresses, too. He stared at his son for a moment, who stared back and struggled to focus on his face. "Rhaego," he whispered, entranced. After a moment, he managed to break his gaze away. "Rest, and I will be back later," he promised, rising and touching Rhaego briefly on the head, tenderly acknowledging his son before kissing Dany once more and leaving.

"He was outside the door the whole time," Doreah whispered softly so only Dany could hear. "He never left. Now he will go to his celebration. I will wait a few hours while you rest and then give him your request to come home." She looked down at Rhaego and smiled. "He's beautiful, my Khaleesi," she whispered.

A clean cloth blanket was draped over them both as she exited the tub, the sensation of still being attached to him rather odd. Reluctantly she passed Rhaego over to the girls as her pains returned. They quickly wiped him dry and clean on her lap as they waited for her to push out the afterbirth before severing his cord. He was protesting loudly by the time Dany was cleaned and dressed, and they quickly lifted him to his mother's waiting arms. He immediately stopped crying and nuzzled her, moving restlessly against her, looking for milk and comfort. "He knows you are his mother, Khaleesi," the midwife said. "Undo your gown and give him what he needs." Daenerys immediately untied and pulled down the top of her gown, the midwife's hands helping her guide him to her waiting breast, at the same time Dany was being guided herself to the prepared bed.

The midwife showed Dany how to continue nursing her son while laying down on her side, and promised to return in a few hours after they had had some rest. When she opened the tent to leave, she smiled and turned back to look at Daenerys. "The sun is just now rising, Khaleesi. Indeed, a good night to be born."

Dany couldn't sleep, finding her son beautiful beyond her imagination. Her son. She watched him suckle, his eyes tightly closed in concentration, making little grunting and snuffling sounds as he did so. She switched sides, only hearing a momentary complaint from him as he rooted and then latched on without difficulty. He soon let go, asleep; her rich yellow milk still sticky on his mouth. His dark hair was straight and thick, like his father's, she noted with a smile. She wondered what color his eyes were, as she hadn't had the chance to really look into his eyes and see him, everything seemed to have happened so quickly after the moment he was born. She shifted around in the bed, pushing the blankets down to her knees, feeling too warm.

"Here, Khaleesi. Sit up, and I will put some more cushions behind you. Let Rhaego sleep on your chest, the warmth you're feeling now is meant for him." Doreah helped her sit up and pulled her gown down around her waist, and Irri quickly checked Rhaego's changing clothes, and then changed him without waking him. She smiled at Dany's surprise. "I helped my mother birth four children," she smiled. "I learned a few things in that time."

With Rhaego settled back on her bared chest, naked except his changing clothes, Irri brought a light blanket up over them both. "The heat of your skin is very good for him, and it should be trapped against you both to help you recover. Just rest now, my Khaleesi, sleep if you can, but rest your body."

Again, Dany didn't sleep. She couldn't. The warm weight of Rhaego's tiny body on her chest filled her with a joy she'd never felt before. He was here. He was hers, wholly hers in those first few hours. He snorted and snuffled, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he slept, his legs tucked up under his tummy, the soles of his feet pressed together. 'So this is how you slept inside me,' she thought with a smile, her hands gently touching him, holding him against her under the blanket and stroking his silky soft skin with gentle fingers. She buried her nose in his soft hair, kissing him and taking in his sweet scent as she nuzzled him. She rested quietly, aching and tired, but unable to miss a moment of holding her son. Dany watched Rhaego sleep as Doreah went quietly about removing soiled blankets and clothes and as Irri and Jhiqui carried her tub outside to clean.

She drifted off into a light sleep, but was quickly awakened when Drogo touched her cheek with gentle fingers. He gestured to the baby, and she nodded, smiling up at him. He lifted a sleeping Rhaego from her chest carefully. "Heavy," Drogo whispered. "Strong. He has fed?" He held his son securely to his chest, gently supporting his head with one large hand, Rhaego's little rump resting on his arm. He reached down and gathered a blanket up with his free hand. He gently wrapped the blanket around the still sleeping baby, hoping to not wake him from his mother's missing heat. Rhaego looked so tiny in his father's large hands, so delicate and vulnerable, yet Drogo's hold on him was gentle and confident. Drogo was looking down at him, pride filling his entire body, his small son already taking his place in his heart. "My son," he whispered, holding him tenderly, this small child the ultimate gift from his beautiful wife. He carefully lifted one tiny hand, touching every finger before doing the same to the other. A quick shift in his arms and the inspection of his toes rendered Drogo satisfied.

"Yes," Dany replied softly, resisting the urge to reach for her baby, fighting her instinct to protect him, knowing that Drogo would take care of him. "He has fed twice now."

Drogo smiled. "Good." He sat on the bed, close to Dany, and leaned over to her. "You look . . . happy. Tired. Beautiful. You're always beautiful. No, no tears, my little Moon" he said gently, and brushed a tear from her cheek.

"I cry because I'm happy. I don't know what else to do," she whispered, looking him in the eyes. Drogo quickly shifted Rhaego over to his other arm, and wrapped his now free one around Dany, resting his forehead against hers. Dany quickly wrapped her arms around Drogo's shoulders, and their shared breath said everything words couldn't. He kissed her face, breathed her in, relieved that both Rhaego and Daenerys had survived the birth without any harm.

"Sleep more, my Khaleesi," he whispered finally, "Rhaego will show his face to his people for a moment. He will not be touched by anyone until you are present and permit such devotions to him."

Dany nodded, knowing the tradition, prepared for the Khal to make this first introduction of his son to the khalasar. A horse would be chosen, and then sacrificed in four days to celebrate Rhaego's birth, at which time Dany would be allowed out of childbed for the celebration before returning to her rest for as long as possible before they would move out toward Astapor. If they had been in Vaes Dothrak, her resting time would go as long as a full moon's time if she needed it.

"My brave Daenerys. You were very strong. I've heard women scream for hours like death was upon them. If I hadn't heard Rhaego's one cry, I wouldn't have known the birth was over, let alone even begun," he said softly, and then tucked the blanket around her with a tender smile. "I will bring him right back, I promise." He then took a small sheep's fleece blanket from next to the bed and draped it over his son, protecting him from the morning chill as they exited the tent.

Once alone, Dany got up from the bed, removed her changing clothes, and put new ones on. The bleeding, she was told, would lessen with each feeding Rhaego took from her body, and the more she rested, ate, and fed him, the sooner she would be recovered. She then arranged Rhaego's small bed, moving it so it was touching her side of the big bed she shared with Drogo. She didn't know if she would place him in it, preferring to hold him on her chest while he slept but it was there and prepared just the same.

Her legs shaking from the exertion, she lay back down, pulling the blankets over her shoulders, nestling down in the softness of her bed. The same bed that had not been comfortable for more than two moons was suddenly pulling her down, down into a deep sleep. She fought it only for a few moments, knowing that Rhaego was safe with his father, and would soon have her warmth to comfort him once again.

It seemed just a few moments had passed before a lusty wailing filled her ears, Drogo quickly entering the tent. Dany didn't know how she sat up and had her arms out so quickly, but just as quickly Drogo placed the baby in her arms. "Hungry and angry to be away from you," he said quietly. "We will try again in a few hours. We didn't make it to the center of camp."

Dany smiled warmly at Drogo, and undid the front of her gown again. Rhaego wasted no time in finding her breast, latching on and suckling fiercely. Drogo was entranced, watching his son eat. Dany felt a deep ache, both in her now empty womb and at her breasts. The side Rhaego wasn't suckling began dripping milk down her belly and soaking her gown. Drogo reached out and touched her nipple, pressing his finger there, stopping the flow. "Plenty of food for him," he murmured. "No need for a milk mother."

"No. No need," Dany agreed, reaching over and replacing Drogo's finger with her own. "He needs the milk of a khaleesi to make him the khal of khals." She nudged her husband's side teasingly, and then looked up from her nursing son to smile in the eyes of the father. Drogo smiled back. The only sounds in the tent were the crackle of the brazier and the small noises of a hungry baby getting his fill.

"I miss him being in me already. It feels lonely in here," she whispered, gesturing to her body. "Did that make any sense?" she asked, laughing softly. "It feels strange, that's all."

"He grew there for many moons, it will take awhile to forget his movements in you," Drogo said, gently touching Rhaego on his small head, stroking his son's fine black hair. "He resembles you."

"Not the hair," she replied, smiling at them both. "Not the chin, maybe. But the rest is mine."

Drogo chuckled. "You certainly did all the work." He was quiet for a moment. "I will tell you true, wife. I wish we were home in Vaes Dothrak instead of crossing a desert."

"We will be fine as long as I have water," she said, trying to reassure him.

"This is my concern."

She nodded. "Let's have our resting time, and Rhaego's celebration feast. Let the khalasar eat and drink and prepare. When we must go, we will be ready."


	4. Chapter 4

The temptation to write a humorous bit of what the Khal was doing while waiting for Rhaego to be born was beyond my resistance. Love does some funny stuff to people, even if they have no word for love and even if they're the Khal ;)

Rated 'M' for mature language. My Drogo likes four letter words, especially when talking to himself.

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Drogo sat down outside the tent and leaned back against one of the posts. He decided that he would wait there, even if it took all night. How ill-luck could it be, even for a Khal, to disregard tradition? He realized he didn't care as long as he was near Daenerys and listening for Rhaego's first cry. The Great Stallion could go fuck himself. He was Khal. _He_ decided what would happen in this khalasar.

Nervously, he could hear Dany's moans escalating in the tent. It seemed awfully soon for her to be making _those_ sounds, he thought. He wished for the first time that night he had paid at least a bit of attention to other women birthing in the khalasar. He grabbed his arakh and began running the whetstone on the edges of the blade, sharpening his weapon to keep his hands busy.

There were no riders about, not even any of the slaves were still out as the fires burned low. No one to see his suspicious activities, he chuckled, feeling a bit like a child about to get caught doing something wrong. He spent some time with his arakh, honing the blade with great concentration, trying act as though it was completely normal behavior for him to be out so late and sitting by himself.

He listened carefully while feigning nonchalance. He could hear the women in the tent, speaking in low tones, and then water being sloshed around in Dany's big tub. _What the fuck. . . she's taking a bath now? _he thought to himself, the absurdity beyond his comprehension. He turned his head and peeked in the tent in time to see Daenerys' nude profile and two of her handmaidens helping her into the tub, Dany's hugely pregnant belly lower on her slight frame than when he'd carried her inside just a few hours before.

The midwife spoke clearly then, "Rhaego will come more easily in the water, and you will need less time to heal after." It was as though she knew he was there, listening. _Was there a problem? Was Rhaego not coming?_ He mentally shook his head. Now was not the time to start worrying about things like that.

Guiltily, he moved back from the door as silent as a shadowcat. Dany was quieter in the tub, but by now he was so attuned to what was happening in his home that he could hear her breathy pants and quiet moans. She was being so quiet, he feared that it was going to be a day or two before Rhaego would arrive, Daenerys spent and exhausted. He wondered why the midwife was putting her in the water so soon. The damned problem was he knew nothing about birth, except with horses, and broodmares were fickle bitches; some could take days to foal, some only hours. His beautiful little wife was no broodmare, that much he knew for certain. He shrugged his shoulders at his own ignorance, and continued with his work.

He finished sharpening his arakh, and took out his two bone handled knives. One suffered a nick in the blade when he dropped it in the dirt during his fight with Maggo, and he'd not properly seen to it yet. Now was a good time to repair that blade down to a decent edge again. He fumbled and nearly dropped it when he heard Dany vomit. _What the fuck was happening in there now? _It took a lot of control to not peek around the corner again, but who wanted to see someone be sick? Not him. Give him blood and entrails any day, but not the reeking foulness of vomit, no matter who was losing their meat. He'd had enough of that when they figured out she was pregnant. He again toyed with the idea to go and wake Cohollo, his closest friend and blood rider as planned. No, he decided. He would wait right where he was and see this shit through.

He found himself just sitting and gripping the handle of his knife, turning it over and over in his palm, listening to the pitch and frequency of his wife's voice. He heard her sobbing quietly, _so quietly_, and water moving around. _Shit, she's crying. _Last time he'd heard her cry was their wedding night. He wondered if she was all right; he certainly _wanted_ her to be all right. He wanted to go in there and tell her to just go ahead and scream if she wanted to. No, she'd probably kill him, he reasoned. If he went in there and acted like a dumb fuck, she'd probably drown him, just grab him by the beard and hold him under. She probably wanted to do that by now anyway, just for getting her pregnant. He was supposed to be on the other side of camp by now, not crouching here in the dirt and darkness like a thief. Not for the first time, he wondered about this woman he'd taken as his wife. Daughter of dragons, hot blooded and strong. A long moan, louder than any she'd vocalized so far, sent a chill down his spine, but oddly made him feel better.

He got up, shaking off the pins and needles in his feet. _Fuck it_, he thought, and threw some more wood on a fire that was a short distance from tent. He moved a large branch near the fire, and sat down again, knife still in his hand. He'd dropped the whetstone somewhere, and he went back to find it. After a few minutes kicking at the dust and turning up nothing, he went back to his first seat near the tent.

Drogo could hear the women talking again, not their words, just their voices. He strained to hear, but no one seemed anxious, so things must be progressing. Another choking sob followed by a little moan, and then quiet. He was on his feet, about to charge into the tent when the midwife started talking to Dany quietly, encouraging her to push. _Already? _He struggled with himself, trying to keep out of the tent, so he went back to the fire and threw some more wood on it before he realized what he was doing. Fuck. A fire that large would surely draw attention. He cursed himself for a fool and kicked one of the logs off the fire, managing to not burn himself in the process. _Dumbass_, he cursed himself, hopping on one foot to beat the flames off his other leg.

After calming himself down, he went back to his spot and listened for a moment, hearing Dany panting and breathing deeply. He found the whetstone on the ground next to his arakh. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, then went back to the fire for his knife. He shook his head at his own stupidity; his weapons were as scattered as his nerves. _Sit the fuck down and take care of your shit, dumbass_. _You have no business in that tent right now. Back the fuck off and let Daenerys do what she needs to do._ He sat on the ground in front of the fire where he could actually see what he was doing, and went to work on the blade. He began counting the passes of the whetstone on each side of the blade, each caress of stone on steel perfectly in time with Dany's breathing in the tent.

He began to worry; the women all went quiet in there. And then he heard her cry out like he'd never heard her do before, not even when they were fucking and she was enjoying it. _That's it, I've had enough waiting out here. _He was on his feet and heading toward the tent when he heard a little cough and the loud lusty newborn cry of his son as he approached the door. He dropped everything in his hands and burst into the tent, unable to restrain himself.

"Rhaego?" he asked, the only word he was able to form as he got a good look at his son, blue and purple, all wrinkled and covered in white clots. Daenerys was holding him tightly to her chest, covered in the mess herself but sobbing and smiling, and looked up at him in the doorway.

"Let me check," she said, and he watched in horrified fascination as Rhaego's coloring began to get pinker and more flesh like. "Yes, Rhaego," she cried softly, and he was suddenly next to her, holding her face and kissing her everywhere he could. Gods, she looked like something out of the seven hells she'd read to him about, but so very, very beautiful, too. He was inches from his son's face, letting the newborn get a good look at him, the baby struggling to focus his eyes. He wondered why the baby wasn't crying, but then, if he were on Dany's chest and warm and held, he wouldn't make much fuss, either. He gently touched his son on the head, marveling at how soft his hair was, even as it was still damp.

"Rest, and I'll be back later," he whispered, and kissed her again, trying to tell her how relieved he was that everything had gone so well.

Outside the tent, he gathered up all his scattered possessions and made his way to Cohollo's home, waking his best friend with a swift kick to his foot that made him roll off the young slave he'd bedded. "Put your cock away and wake the fuck up, asshole. Get me a drink. I'm a father today."

Cohollo let out a loud whoop and jumped up. He found and blew his horn, summoning the riders. "The Khaleesi will foal today!" he called out.

Drogo grinned and said quietly, "She already has, but shut up about that part. My son is probably already having his first meal."

Cohollo tossed a skin of wine at him. "What did she do, drop the colt in the bath?" he jested.

Drogo choked on his drink. "Midwife kicked me out. I had some peace and quiet in front of a fire. All I know is he's here and my wife is fine."

Other blood riders began coming and filled his friend's tent. As the sun rose, they stumbled out onto the grass and began yelling for food to be brought, calling out Rhaego's name and drinking as they feasted. Drogo ate and kept an eye out for one of his wife's attendants to show up. He was anxious to get back.


	5. Chapter 5

I liked how the last chapter turned out, so I did another one from Drogo's view. It's short, and I'm sorry about that, but Drogo seems to have a mind of his own in this story. I can't make him do but what HE wants to do, and it usually involves cussing and drinking if he's not riding. I want to both punch him and kiss him at this point.

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Rhaego did not like anyone but his mother holding him. Drogo watched as Daenerys would get Rhaego to nurse for long minutes that would turn into hours before she would attempt to pass him to someone, _anyone_, so she could sleep, but Rhaego was having none of it. Only a day removed from his birth, she wanted him to feed as often as possible so she would heal faster, but by the time the sun was high on his third day, she was in tears.

Drogo had finally had enough. She needed to sleep and the khalasar needed to get moving too soon for her as it was. He needed to take care of her, so he had her bundle Rhaego up in his blanket as tightly as she could. He then took the screaming baby from her and left the tent. He felt unsettled that she was still crying when they left. He couldn't tell if it was because she was just so very tired or if it was simply out of relief that he was taking action, but in any case he didn't turn back. Rhaego could go a few hours without his mother, he reasoned. His little Moon was probably feeling anxious about the babe being out of her sight, too, but it would be good for them both.

They wandered for a bit, checking on horses and observing the khalasar, Rhaego's screaming attracting much amusement and attention from passing blood riders and women alike. Drogo ignored the crying and kept talking to his son, telling him about how life in the khalasar was going to be as he grew. He eventually found himself standing outside Cohollo's tent. He grinned and then ducked inside.

"I can't put him back where he came from," he joked as he sat down. Rhaego's crying finally began winding down a little. "His mother is near mad for lack of sleep, so I brought him here to annoy the fuck out of all of us."

"Since when are you doing the work of women?" Jhogo smirked, downing another drink.

"Since when are you the father to the Stallion Who Mounts the World?" Drogo retorted. "He'd better get used to assholes like you now so he knows how to kick you cunts into submission later."

"Take him back to the women. While he's at suck, he's not our problem," Jhogo replied, taking a bite out of a roasted boar's leg he held.

"Look, only a few days old and already his braid is longer than yours! His balls are probably bigger, too." Drogo taunted back, laughing and tossing a wineskin to his friend.

As they talked and drank, Rhaego fell asleep in his father's arms. "See? He just wanted the company of men," Cohollo pointed out drunkenly. "All the women cooing and oohing over him was pissing him off. The Khal of Khals doesn't need his face kissed by the women, he needs drinking time with us."

Drogo finally drug himself and his tiny son home, satisfied he'd shown him off enough for one day. They ducked into the huge tent in time to find Daenerys waking up. She groaned and took Rhaego from him, unwrapping him and putting him to her engorged breast.

"Better?" he whispered, sitting next to her and staring at her breasts. _Holy shit, when did they get so big? Fuck._ He felt a stirring in his groin, but knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it with Dany, not for many more days. Poor girl needed rest, not him shoving his cock in her face. Plenty of time for that later.

She looked up and him and smiled. "Yes," she murmured, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Much."

He grunted in satisfaction. Job well done. Wife happy, baby quiet, peace restored. Her warm weight settled against him, making him feel sleepy and relaxed, all that he had to drink at Cohollo's starting to work through him. He wrapped an arm around her, watching the swelling in her breast go down as Rhaego fed.

"Midwife says we should be ready to move in just a few more days," she said softly.

"We're waiting for more water vessels to be made, little wife. Carts need to be repaired. You're not keeping us from moving on. Rest and feed our son, he needs to grow a few more days at least," he replied, kissing her temple gently. "A favor?"

She looked at him then and smiled. "Yes?"

"Keep those tits hot. I wanna fuck them when I'm permitted to touch you again." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed outright at that and smacked his arm, waking Rhaego. The baby fussed for a moment, but Dany simply switched him around to the other breast and he began nursing lustily again.

"You're such an ass," she murmured, giggling.

He just chuckled. At least she could say it while smiling. _Mine. _He kissed her gently on the lips, enjoying their warmth and sweetness. Pulling back, he grinned at her and then got up. He grabbed his bow and arakh and headed for the door. "Going to bring back some meat," he said, and came back for one more kiss before leaving his home.


	6. Chapter 6

Ok, back on track. A few things first: 1) I haven't written out the dragon eggs, I just have a different plan for them. 2) the next few chapters may be erratically posted over the next month or so as I'm in the middle of selling and moving house across the country and it's a lot of work doing it myself with two small children (rest assured, I am dedicated to seeing this through to whatever end!) and 3) HOLY SEVEN HELLS, all you viewers and reviewers! FORTY REVIEWS!? I'm rewarding you all with this chapter much earlier than I was intending on submitting it :) I never imagined you guys would be so interested in this. Thank you for visiting and reviewing! It means a lot to me.

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Drogo watched Daenerys with their young son, amused at how she would play with the new baby for hours from her bed. Rhaego seemed to like it, her smiles and laughs at his expressions and noises encouraging him to make more. At least he'd stopped screaming, anyways. The Great Stallion had finally shit some mercy on them.

By his celebration day on his fifth day of life, Rhaego smiled back at her as she held him up over her head, his cheeks full and pink as he looked down at her. He then spit up on her. Drogo was slightly horrified, jumping back and away, and Dany could do nothing but laugh and change her gown and wipe up her chest. "Fuck! He had that much milk in him!" Drogo exclaimed. "His belly could hold that much?"

"He is made of belly," Dany said teasingly, still giggling at her husband's shock, kissing her son on the cheeks. "There's nothing else in there. At least we know he's getting enough to eat."

Dany was greeted by bright sunlight as she stepped out of the tent, dressed warmly despite the heat. Rhaego was bundled in her arms, his face shielded from the direct sunlight. Drogo led them a short way to the celebration site, a shaded place set up for them to sit and rest while they received their guests and ate.

She kept Rhaego in her lap for most of the celebration, the only way to keep him happy besides putting him to her breast. Irri and Doreah flanked her on her cushions, with Drogo sitting nearby, taking his position as Khal. His blood riders were seated around him, effectively cutting him off from listening to the women talk, but he could still see his wife and son from his seat. He took advantage of it, keeping a close eye on how Dany was feeling.

As the sun went down, the music and drinking began. Rhaego began his nightly fussing as soon as the sun gave it's final kiss to the sky, and he could see Dany tiring quickly, so Drogo went to them, lifted his son from his mother's lap and helped Dany to her feet. Giving the baby back to her, he gestured to her maids to help their Khaleesi back to their home. He watched her for as long as she was in sight. Jhogo elbowed him in the ribs, "Stop watching. It's a long time before you can touch that one again, you just wait," he jested.

Drogo groaned and rubbed his face before holding out his horn for more drink. "How long, you think?" He couldn't tell if his friend was serious or just fucking with him.

Jhogo smirked. "You've got about a year, I'd bet."

"Horse shit, you fucker," Drogo exclaimed, and shoved him off his seat. The other riders roared with laughter around them, not hearing the joke, only Drogo jesting with his friend and Jhogo sprawled on the ground, unable to rise in his drunkenness. Another drink was passed down to him on the ground, and the laughter continued.

Dany was growing restless and impatient by the time Rhaego was a week old, not enjoying the rest any more. Poking around in the various trunks and boxes of her things, she found a long cloth given to her as a bride gift that was intended as a carrier for her son. With some help from Irri in how to traditionally wind it around her body, she began using it to hold him as she got up and moved about the tent. She discovered that Rhaego really liked it, and could either look about or hide his face and nap as he chose.

Her first official day out of bed, she bundled him in the carrier and took him for a walk around the camp, first to see the horses, and then to the stream to bid it a fond farewell. She was going to miss this place, but it was necessary for the khalasar to move on to Astapor. Waiting too long to move would lead to no game to hunt, and they needed to start out the desert crossing with plenty of food.

She showed Drogo her carrier, and asked if it was safe enough for Rhaego to be in it on horseback, where he could nurse and be comfortable for the journey. "Yes, just like any other Dothraki babe," he said, his voice quiet and soft. "But I would prefer you ride an older horse, one not so spirited as the silver. One mild tempered and obedient."

"Of course," she immediately agreed. "Would you choose one for me? One that's not too tall, and one that doesn't mind stopping if the rest of the khalasar doesn't?"

"We will stop when we need to stop," he said, his voice leaving no room for discussion. "You shall have the horse you ask for."

Two days later, Drogo brought a horse to their tent, calling Dany out. Rhaego was bundled in the carrier, and Dany carried two water skins with her. As soon as she was out, the tent began to be broken down to be packed away. He stood and let her greet her new mount, a quiet brown mare that stood patiently as he helped Dany into the saddle. To her immense relief, Drogo had remembered to convert her saddle so she could sit side seat, much easier on her healing body. Rhaego protested while Dany supported his head as she settled into the saddle, but quieted down quickly as they began to move.

Drogo jumped into his saddle and grabbed the rope a blood rider tossed to him and tied it on the back of his saddle. The godswife was tied to Drogo's red stallion, just as Dany had wanted. Before she could change her mind, she rode up to where the woman was walking and smiled down at the bedraggled figure. "You will NOT get my son," she said quietly, smiling down at her baby. "You will burn where you fall." She pointed behind them to a cart full of gathered wood. "Your pyre is following you."

Daenerys rode up to keep pace with her husband, who paid no mind to the words she'd said, nor to the woman tied to the back of his horse. His goal was to make as many miles as he could before they built the godswife's fire. They were two full days from the next river, and then the desert crossing would start. He would drag her if she didn't keep up. He had a wife and son to keep alive.

Dany pointedly ignored the trailing figure, and kept her mind on her little boy. It was easy enough to shift him in her arms to nurse, but changing him required stopping. After a few painful tries, she found it was easiest to just stop and pass him to one of her handmaidens to do it, so she didn't have to try dismounting her horse so many times.

To the Khaleesi's disappointment, the godswife did not fall by the time the day was over. She, however, needed help down from her horse, her strength completely gone. She passed Rhaego over to Irri with shaking limbs as Doreah helped her inside the Khal's tent and to her bed. She immediately bared her breast for her son, and fell asleep as he nursed.

She woke for dinner, and Drogo ate with her in silence. She wasn't sure what had angered him, but she contented herself when he gently extracted Rhaego from her arms and held his son close to his face and spoke to him quietly. She moved behind them and wrapped her arms around Drogo's shoulders, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. He smelled of hot sun and dry grass and horses. She smiled as she closed her eyes, comforted by him.

"Back to bed, you," he said to her, taking her hand and holding it tightly against his chest before bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. "I knew you needed more resting time. I saw you dismount your horse today."

"I'm all right," she assured him quietly. "My body has only forgotten how to ride, my Sun and Stars. It will remember soon." She felt him kiss her hand again, and she smiled.

"If the woman does not fall tomorrow, I will take a blade to her feet and we will see how long she lasts."

"We will celebrate by the river tomorrow night," she agreed drowsily, not moving from where she was.

He turned to look at her then. "Back to bed with you," he repeated firmly. "I'm taking Rhaego out to the fires for a little while. Rest, my little Moon. It's a hard ride tomorrow."

"Bring him back inside before those big biting bugs come out," she sighed, and kissed him on the cheek. The sweet pull of sleep was getting the best of her, so she slowly made her way back to the bed.

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A/N AGAIN! I started writing this purely for myself. All of you awesome people out there who have marked my story as a favorite, follow, OR you REALLY awesome people who have left me a review . . . you're making me nervous. I love it, but I'm terrified of disappointing you now. I've been told (by the funny and odd dude I live with) that I need to just keep writing this for _me, _and things will work out. I hope he's right.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay. Deep breath. I seriously had another direction in mind for this story, but this chapter took over and I like it much better. There was the story I was seeing, and then the words were on the page. I apparently didn't give myself the option to question this. SO, subsequent chapters are in desperate need of rewrite! Damn, just when I think I'm all smart and getting ahead . . . ANYWAY, this is what we've been building up to. I'm kinda sorry it took so long to get here, but I think it's going to work out in our favor in the end ;)

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Dany managed to ignore the pathetic figure tied to the back of her husband's horse until her inevitable fall. Drogo's lean red stallion began to flick his ears in annoyance, causing Dany to look behind him. The godswife had fallen. She was not struggling, simply letting the horse drag her over the hot, dry earth.

"My Khal," Dany called, using Drogo's title out of respect to him and his blood riders while outside their home. When he looked back at her, she gestured toward the fallen woman.

He grunted, pulled his horse up, and dismounted. He used his arakh to cut the rope, dropping the woman face down in the dirt. She turned her head, nothing more. Dany watched from her horse, not bothering to look interested, instead gesturing to the group of following slaves to unload the cart of wood. Handing Rhaego over to her handmaidens, she managed to dismount without exposing the blinding pain she was in, and immediately took him back. She walked a distance from the khalasar, and could see a line of green only a mile or two ahead. The river was near, the trees on either bank relying on it to stay green. This was as good a place as any.

She walked back slowly, satisfied. Tents were already being set up, and the cart of wood had been unloaded. The ground around the wood had already been cleared to prevent a wild grass fire, and a pole had been quickly pounded into the ground to bind the old woman. She stood and watched as the wood was arranged and an actual pyre began to take shape before she looked to Drogo.

"No," she said quietly, for his ears alone, mindful of his riders and friends. _He_ was Khal. Outside their home, she was an obedient wife, almost completely submissive. This was the way of the Dothraki. The last time she had tried to assert herself, Drogo had nearly been poisoned by this woman, seeing him as weak where his wife was concerned.

His face shot to hers faster than she'd ever seen him do. "What no? No? She's going to burn, Daenerys." He was completely perplexed. There was no way she could change her mind about this. She called the sentence, and now she _must_ follow through.

"No, she doesn't deserve a Dothraki pyre. She will receive no honors. She tried to kill us, Drogo. You, Rhaego and me. I saved her from rape and beating, and this is how she thanks our family. Tie her to the ground for all I care. No pyre, and we will not waste a horse on her." She kept her voice low despite her loathing and anger.

Drogo stood next to her and mulled it over for a moment. She was right, he knew, but the other 300 odd Lhazareen slaves were already restless about the godswife's sentence, fearful for their own lives, and he debated internally about the best way to strike them quiet with complete fear. Burning her in shame could send them into an uprise, but that was no real threat to the khalasar. It would just be a waste of slaves and time, and Drogo would have to seize another village or two to make up the difference. They were too far out now to make it work without losing what slaves would be left as it was.

He called a halt to the builders and had the fuel heaped around the pole haphazardly instead of the intricate and raised pyre. Rhaego woke, and Dany immediately put him to breast as she watched the godswife brought forward and fastened to the pole. Dany looked down at his beautiful little face, his eyes locked with hers as he nursed, and she realized how close it had been. He wouldn't be here if that woman had gotten away with her desires. Drogo would be very sick by now, if not dead. Maybe even she would be gone, Drogo left to build _her _pyre, Rhaego left out on the grass for the wild dogs like any other dead Dothraki babe. She shuddered, and bent her head to kiss him while he fed.

Suddenly, she could feel the heat rising in her again. Rhaego began fussing at her unrest, so she gave him over to Irri for soothing and changing and she walked toward the heap attached to the pole. She reached her hand out for a torch, a young blood rider eagerly pressing the flaming stick into her palm. She turned and looked back to see Drogo take his son from Irri, his eyes leaving hers briefly to console his crying son.

Daenerys stepped forward, her thick soled riding boots just touching the wood where she stopped, fire in hand. "You will scream for me. And then you will die," she said quietly to the bound woman. "I will have your name first, for I have forgotten it."

The woman stared back at her for a moment, then spat at Dany's feet. Dany smiled sweetly at her, and lowered the flame in her hand to the fuel. "There's no grass left to water here; save it for the gods who betrayed you. I will have your life, as you wanted the lives of my husband and son."

The woman began to sing a high pitched, strange song as the flames grew around her. Dany listened for a minute, maybe two, as the fire began to spread. Dany deliberately turned her back to the woman, turned to walk back to her husband, her eyes on his face. His loving gaze turned to a look of horror and he gave a shout, seizing a knife from his belt and threw it _at her, _barely missing her as she moved a step back. She could hear the wind from the blade as it flew by her face. Dany turned to find it had found it's mark deep in the godswife's shoulder, forcing her to drop her own concealed blade, raised to strike down the Khaleesi.

Daenerys did not think. She simply acted. She stepped into the fire and grabbed the handle of her husband's knife, the blade's bone handle melding to her grip as though it had been made for her. She yanked the blade out, wrenching it, feeling the woman's blood spray her face. The flames licked at her as if they were washing the gore away, gentle and warm. She tossed the knife clear of the flames, and seized the godswife by her wounded shoulder. "Scream for me," she commanded, grabbing her face with her free hand. "Your life is mine." And scream the woman did.

Dany wondered briefly what she must look like to the old woman, covered in blood and fire. Her clothes were burning away, the flames nothing more than gentle lickings of warmth on her skin. The blood in her hair was burning away, leaving nothing but the bright silver blonde strands clean of filth. She held on to the struggling woman with all her strength, holding her to the pole by her face, holding her until she stopped moving and her screams were silenced by the roaring fire as life burned from her, and then Dany was left holding her blackened body until the would-be murderer was falling to pieces like so many cuts of roasted meat.

Dropping her victory, Dany turned. The wall of fire was too high to see anything but the hot yellow and white flames, but she realized she could hear Drogo bellowing in anguish and Rhaego crying over the horrific roar of the fire; the entire khalasar seemed to be crying out. She quickly stepped through the flames toward the noise, only to be met with dead silence on the other side, except for Rhaego. She was unconcerned with her nudity, quickly extracting her son from his father's arms and murmuring softly to him as she turned and went into their tent.

As the fire finally began to burn low, Drogo stepped into the tent to find Dany singing softly to a sleeping Rhaego as she held him against her chest. She was freshly dressed, her hair combed back and braided. He stared at her for a few moments before he removed his boots and arakh and joined them at their low table, filling his plate with the fresh roasted meat and bread that was the Dothraki standard meal.

"What is this song you sing to our son, my wife?" he asked carefully, testing to find her mood.

"It's just a lullaby I can only remember some of the words to, in Valyrian" she murmured, looking up at him and smiling softly. When he looked at her questioningly, she added, "Mother's song in mother's tongue." He nodded briefly, understanding, and began eating. After a moment, he realized he really wasn't hungry, and pushed his plate aside.

"You are . . . unhurt?" he began, struggling to find words that conveyed what he was feeling, and coming up short.

She nodded, not looking up from Rhaego's sleeping form. "She deserved it," she stated defensively.

"I'm not disagreeing," he replied cautiously, still testing her state of mind, _because I sure as fuck can't figure out mine, _he thought.

"You are angry with me," she said softly. He could hear the tears in her voice, the fear of angering him apparent. She had not been free from her brother long enough, he realized. _That fucking little asshole,__ how long had he hurt her? _Drogo held in his anger at the thought.

"No. Not angry," he said, his rough voice turned soft and gentle. He looked at her, willing her to meet his gaze. "You terrified me." He reached out and touched her hand. It seemed so small in his. He found himself remembering the small woman child sitting on the dais with him on their wedding day, how fragile and delicate she seemed, how frightened she had been. He remembered thinking that she wouldn't live to see Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki way of life too rough and difficult for her to survive. _Daughter of dragons._

She squeezed his hand tightly. "I had to do it."

"You looked like a goddess reborn from the fire, Daenerys. You walked into those flames, and yet here you are, singing to our son like you took a walk in the rain." He couldn't keep the awe and wonder from his voice.

"I only did what I had to," she stated, rising from the table and tucking a snoring Rhaego into his bed.

"I fear the day I piss you off," he said with a grin, watching her walk back toward him. He wanted all the gods to look at her in that moment, this beautiful and powerful woman who was his wife.

"Kiss me instead of wondering," she suggested, pushing on his shoulders so he would make room on his lap for her. As he gently held her hips and guided her down into his lap, she asked, "Did you pick up your blade? I saved it for you."

He laughed. "Yes, I did. I had to wait for it to cool down enough for a mortal's touch, though." She giggled quietly, an innocent and girlish sound, then kissed him.

"A little fear would do you good, my Khal," she whispered, her mouth hovering over his, a smile glowing in her eyes.

"I only fear losing you," he admitted, touching her chin and guiding her to kiss him once more.

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, running her fingers over his scar. "All better now," she said, focusing her gaze on it.

"Yes," he agreed, still admiring the young beauty in his lap. "Come, I want to hold you in the bed. You need rest."

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See? What the hell, right? Please let me know what you think?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Ummm . . . ok. This is a longer chapter. I couldn't find a way to break it up without damaging it. Rated MA for sex. I'm not sure about my ability to write this to make anyone happy but me, but I gave it my best. If you don't want to read it, it's the last bit of the chapter.

Also, I need to address the MANY questions about the dragons. Trust me, they're coming, I'm writing that chapter NOW. Our Daenerys doesn't even have the dragon eggs yet in my story, (see A/N at beginning of Chapter 6!) but they're coming! It's going to be a few chapters before they show up, but they do right before stuff really starts to happen. Right now, Dany has her hands full with ONE baby, adding three more at this point seems a bit much, don't you think? ;) I know this has been a little slow, but I really felt that Dany should have time to enjoy her little one before he got too big to hold. Kids grow SO fast, and we Mamas are left to wonder what happened to that sweet little baby that needed us so desperately. Stay with me! :D

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When Daenerys stepped out of her tent the next morning, people stopped what they were doing to stare at her in amazed silence. She tried to not be self conscious about it; they had done the same on her wedding day. Her physical appearance was so very foreign to the Dothraki, and now that she had shown a rather significant family trait, she was back at the beginning. She knew they respected her as Khal Drogo's wife and their Khaleesi, but now she hoped they would see _her_ instead of as the shadow of _him._

Rhaego was bundled in his carrier, pressed to her heart, and she had her hands full with her two water skins. Irri immediately came up and took the water from her, tying them to the saddle of her waiting horse. Dany followed her, walking past the huge patch of scorched earth where the godswife had burned as if it didn't exist.

It was not until she mounted her horse that she realized her body no longer hurt from Rhaego's birth, the absence of pain astounding as it took her completely by surprise. _Reborn from the fire_, Drogo had said before he'd kissed her. She sat for a minute, then decided. She dismounted the quiet brown mare, and called out to Rakharo, one of her _khas,_ to saddle her silver instead.

In minutes, she was back in her own saddle and astride her beautiful silver mare, her wedding gift from Drogo. The silver was taller than the brown horse, a perfect sized match with Drogo's red. She felt better, somehow _freer _on her own horse. Rhaego didn't seem to notice or care that the silver's gait was a bit more spirited; he slept in his carrier, tightly swaddled against the bumpy traveling. She imagined she would not have enjoyed the ride at all had she still been hurting.

They rode in silence for the short hour it took to reach the river. Easily, Dany dismounted and extracted her quietly alert son from his carrier, found a shaded grassy spot to spread his blanket where she quickly joined him. She knew it was going to take some time to refill all the water vessels and prepare for the desert trek, and she was not about to waste a moment of this last time to truly rest.

Rhaego stared at her face, and she smiled at him. "Hello, baby," she whispered, touching his cheek. He grinned back at her, his little cheeks getting chubbier every day. She could already see his slate blue eyes changing near his pupils. She thought he was going to have the same indigo violet blue eyes her niece had before the Usurper's hired sword murdered her. Dany had heard the stories from Viserys, the horrors Robert Baratheon had done to her family, leaving her the only Targaryen left alive. "Not anymore," she murmured, leaning over to kiss Rhaego on his wild dark hair. "You are the blood of the dragon, my son, with the strength of forty thousand stallions behind you."

He shoved the back of his hand in his mouth and began suckling fiercely. Dany giggled at him and untied the shoulder strap of her woven vest, giving him her breast. She gathered his smaller blanket from the carrier and bundled it around him as he nursed. He soon drifted to sleep, detaching from her as he did. Dany rolled away from him carefully, not wanting to disturb him. She called Irri over to stay with him. She retrieved her long linen cloak from the back of her saddle, and wandered a little ways away from the khalasar, searching for a private space upriver to have one last soak in water before it became too precious to waste on a bath.

Finding a deep spot of slow moving water wasn't difficult, nor was finding privacy in the trees. She stripped off everything and plunged into the cold water, gasping as she surfaced. It felt amazing. She found a large rock to swim to, and climbed up on it, her skin delightfully cooled and goosefleshed. She dove back in the water and swam for a few minutes, thinking about what had happened the night before. Her body had been completely healed when she woke up, no more bleeding, no more pain. She wondered what other things fire could do to her, but there was no one left alive to ask. She supposed that once she and Drogo reclaimed the Iron Throne for Rhaego, she could find books on the matter; there had to be some dusty library somewhere that had what she wanted, an old maester who could tell her something, perhaps.

Dany thought about the library in her once childhood home in Braavos with Ser Willem Darry. It had been small and dark, kept underground where it was dry and cool to prevent the books from rotting in the humid heat. She had been amazed at the stories that were hidden within. She and Viserys were taught to speak and read Valyrian in that room, a Targaryen birthright. She longed to have the scent of lemon blossoms surround her again, like they had at the house with the red door. Ser Willem had called her "Little Princess" and had been kind to her. She hadn't known kindness again until she grew brave enough to speak to Drogo in his own tongue.

_Drogo_. He would be happy to know she was completely recovered. She had seen the way he was starting to look at her again, his lustful gaze making her feel as though she was the most desirable woman that walked the land. She had been afraid that she would eventually have to refuse him, but he seemed to understand. He certainly hadn't pressed her on the matter, to her immense relief. She remembered a time when she thought he was a mindless savage, how terrifying he had been to her. He was still intimidating outside their home, just as it should be, but within their home, he was hers.

"I heard rumors that the Fire Khaleesi was swimming." Drogo's voice rang out across the river, startling her.

She laughed. "Yes, I'm here," she called back, knowing he was trying to track her down by her voice. He emerged from the trees downriver from her, between her and the rest of the khalasar.

He grinned at her from his standpoint, and then started agilely navigating the embankment toward her. "You shouldn't bathe alone, Khaleesi. Water extinguishes flame."

"Don't tease. Swim with me." She ducked her head back under water to smooth her hair back from her face, and she surfaced to watch as he dropped his clothes on the ground with hers. Quickly, he hopped down from the high bank into the waist deep water, letting out a sharp yelp as he hit the water.

"Fuck! Cold!"

She laughed and swam over to him, grabbing him around the shoulders for a kiss. "Not so cold now," he murmured, tucking her in his arms. Bringing his mouth down to hers, he tightened his hold around her as he deepened his kiss. Oh, how good it felt to enjoy this again. She knew she would have to initiate. He had no idea she was recovered and sound again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up out of the water and clung to him, her legs immediately around his waist, holding her body to his. Drogo held her against him. "Yes," she murmured, then claimed his mouth for another scorching kiss. He met her passion for a moment, then pulled back slightly to look at her. "Yes?" he asked, the question heavy in the air.

Daenerys smiled. "Yes," she whispered, and angled her chin up for a kiss.

Drogo looked at her for a moment, incredulous, before he slammed his mouth down on hers, demanding she reciprocate. She moaned into his kiss, realizing how much she'd missed him as his tongue greeted hers. She tucked her legs around him more tightly, panting out a breath as his hands reached around her and grabbed her by the ass and ground her against him. "More," she whimpered. "Drogo, more."

He grunted into her mouth, and then pulled away. "Where?" he asked, looking for a place to set her down.

"Just go deeper in the water," she panted.

"No, too cold for that. I have a reputation," he teased as he kissed her again. _Fuck, the water's COLD._

She half laughed, half snorted as she kissed him. "My cloak. It's up the bank with our clothes. Lift me up?"

He hefted her easily onto the high bank, and she scrambled up while giving him a nice view. He restrained himself from smacking her on the ass, but he grinned at the thought before he used a large rock to follow her, climbing the bank as easily as mounting his horse.

She spread the cloak out on the ground, the loamy earth soft beneath it, and then lay down on her belly and wiggled her hips in his direction, teasing him. Drogo grabbed her and flipped her over on her back and immediately began kissing her again. "I want to touch you," he groaned, letting her lips go, then sat back on his heels. "But I want to look at you first."

He held out his hands, and she took them. As he pulled her up to sit in his lap, he buried his face between her breasts. "You smell good," he whispered, and kissed her softly on her breastbone before letting her go and leaning back so he could look at her body.

A telltale tingle and ache began in her breasts, and she cringed for a moment before relaxing and letting it happen. Her milk letdown was still so sensitive, and she watched his face as he watched her milk drip down her stomach and roll down onto the cloak below in fat, white drops. A tentative finger reached out to trace the wet path down her belly, and he brought that finger to his mouth. He smirked at her. "No wonder Rhaego spends so much time eating." He brought his hands up to cup her gently, and moaned at the feel of her full breasts. "Daenerys."

She whimpered at his touch, and let her head fall back as he closed his lips around one sensitive nipple. She cried out as he sucked, and grabbed his hair. "Not so hard," she whispered. "I'm still new at this." She felt him ease up, and let her go with a kiss to her breast.

He met her gaze, and crushed her mouth to his again, her lips and tongue meeting his eagerly in a wild kiss. He moaned in her mouth, _fuck she tastes good_, and shifted his hands back to her beautiful ass, pulling her tightly against him. This was his favorite position, not only could he go deep, she was easy to hold onto. He let her move against him for quite some time as he kissed her, enjoying the feel of her heat against his rock hard erection; he was in no hurry. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd been able to sink into her and find their climaxes but he had been prepared to wait for weeks longer. He knew it was unusual, but he didn't find other women attractive enough anymore to have them submit to his desires. He simply had no interest. He had dominated a few slaves here and there, but there wasn't much pleasure in it. Sure, he'd gotten off, but it was nothing like being in bed with his Khaleesi. His friends certainly found it amusing. He'd just grinned and said that she'd been gifted to him, and a gift she was. It gave them something to think about and shut them up quickly.

He had never known about a woman's pleasure before Dany was gifted to his bed as his wife. Before, he had simply taken whomever stirred his interest, Dothraki women and slaves alike. It was his right as Khal. The first few months of their marriage he had continued on as before, using slaves and other women as well as Dany, not understanding her tears on their wedding night or her silence in the nights that followed when he would come to her. It was an honor to please him, and she had been unhappy, he knew, but didn't understand why. Not until the night he came to her and she spoke to him in his own tongue. She needed more from him, and once he understood what his beautiful little Khaleesi wanted, he was glad to give it. When she had let herself go and cried out in pleasure that first time, he had been amazed. Not only had it felt incredibly better as the day was different from the night, her beauty in that moment marked her as the only face he wanted to watch while having sex.

Dany raised up on her knees, and Drogo grabbed her hips, guiding her down onto him as he kissed her. She gasped out and pulled back from his mouth at the sharp pain that radiated through her, and he stopped. "What?"

"Hurts," she whimpered.

"Stop?" He panicked for a split second. _Too soon,_ he thought. _We've tried too soon._

"NO, just let me . . . maybe," she panted. "Give me a minute."

He groaned. "Fuck, I'm halfway in, and I need to wait?" He couldn't believe how tight she felt. She just birthed a healthy sized baby only two weeks ago, how was this possible?

"Feels good, but hurts. Slowly, Drogo."

He grabbed her hand and sucked on her fingers, then guided her hand down to touch herself. "This help?" he asked, rubbing her fingers over her sensitive nub.

She nodded, and began rocking her hips again, slowly lowering herself all the way down.

"Shit," he moaned, and then suddenly lifted her off him. "I don't want this to be over now," he chuckled, and laid her back on her clothes. He paused, the laugh dying on his lips as he looked down at himself. He touched her, _there, _and brought his finger up to his face. "Daenerys, you're bleeding."

"What?" she asked, surprise in her voice. She propped herself up on her elbows. He held up his fingers for her to see. "You really were reborn in that fire, _purified,_" he whispered hoarsely, incredulous and even a bit terrified. "We've seen this before." He watched as her face paled, her eyes locked on his hand. "Daenerys?" he asked.

Of all the reactions he was expecting, her eruption of tears was certainly not it. "What's wrong with me?" she cried. He instantly laid down over her, covering her, locking her in his embrace as he kissed her, over and over again, whispering to her half words and nuzzling her neck, trying to console her as she sobbed. After a few moments, she began moving against him again, her crying slowing down to random sniffles mixed with whimpers and sighs of pleasure.

He waited until she wrapped her legs around him, then sank down into her again. This time, she closed her eyes and let out a long moan of pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders and he slowly began to thrust into her, making sure the angle was just right. She arched her back into his arms and began to move with him, and lifted her head to meet his mouth in a fierce kiss.

He held her leg against his side, and rolled them over quickly. His little Moon seemed to always enjoy it more when she was on top, and he was glad to cooperate. Her pleasure made his all that more intense, and all he really had to do was lay back and enjoy it.

He let her ride him at her own pace, though he had to think of other things to keep from satisfying himself before her. He brought his hands down from her breasts to her hips, starting to guide her into a faster pace as she cried out. _Almost there,_ he thought, and sucked on her fingers again before bringing them down to touch herself, enjoying her reaction more every time he did it. She did not disappoint. Her head rocked back, exposing her lovely neck as she began to come at her own touch. Drogo grabbed her hips, lifted her slightly, and pounded her once, twice, and then let himself fall with her, roaring out two weeks worth of frustration.

He laid with her quietly after, tucking her tightly into his embrace as he kissed her. She sighed regretfully, the sounds of a wailing and hungry baby fast approaching. She quickly got up and tossed Drogo his pants, and she slipped her clothes on just as Irri came through the trees, searching for her.

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Ok, so . . . yeah. Let me know what you think? Yes? No? More?


	9. Chapter 9

Time for the khalasar to move! I can't adequately express how very much your reviews mean to me. Your words are kind and are instrumental in helping me write mine. You can always PM me with questions. I'm friendly and your questions are definitely worth answering, thank you for using your valuable time to read my work.

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Rhaego began fussing in the early gray dawn light. Dany extracted herself from Drogo's arms to roll over and liberate the bundled infant from his bed. She snuggled him under the blankets with them and positioned him to feed, leaning back into Drogo's arms sleepily, enjoying the feeling of his skin pressed with hers. He had taken his pleasure, and hers, twice more and then again between her breasts before they had fallen asleep, both of them sated and exhausted. Irri had snuck in and returned Rhaego to his bed sometime after they had fallen asleep.

Drogo stirred next to her, waking. He leaned over and kissed her before sitting up and yawning, rubbing his face to wake up. "Today we move," he said. He stood up and stretched. "Ahhh, fuck me, my body hurts."

She laughed. "That's _why_ your body hurts," she giggled, tossing a cushion at him and missing her mark miserably. _Why did he have to be so damn tall?_ He grinned and threw it back gently, mindful of his feeding son. He hit his intended target, her ass, perfectly. He smiled at her dirty look, but Rhaego nursed on, oblivious to his parents playing.

He grabbed a bit of bread and meat from the table. "Come out when Rhaego is fed and you're ready to mount your horse. We will leave then."

It was all coming together. The slaves would be taken to Astapor to be sold. The gold would buy ships, the very ships that would take the khalasar to Westeros where they would reclaim her father's throne for Rhaego. She smiled at Drogo, then turned her attention to the nursing baby, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he ate his fill, little hands clenched into fists that he pressed into either side of her breast. She leaned over carefully and kissed him on the top of his head as he ate. He may indeed be the Stallion Who Mounts the World, the prophesized Azor Ahai, but for now he was her baby.

Later, as she was about to pull her long dress on over her riding pants, she changed her mind at the last minute, instead choosing one of her woven tops that she could push to the side to feed Rhaego. She was amazed that it fit, and tossed her dress into a waiting trunk. She'd pull it out again if there were any more babies, but until then, it would be packed away. It felt good to wear lighter clothes. After Irri had finished braiding her hair, she twisted the cloth carrier around her body, and tucked Rhaego inside. He settled in contentedly, his cheek pressed against her chest as he looked around.

Dany ignored the stares again as she mounted her horse. She watched as the Khal's huge tent was taken down, and she took her place in the khalasar. She had taken a glance at Drogo's simply drawn map earlier, and the way they were traveling would take them to the foot of the mountains where they would skirt the Red Waste. She had asked if it would be better to risk cutting straight through, but Drogo was against it. They were taking a longer route, he agreed, but even in the high, dry summer there should still be a few mountain streams running for watering horses and men alike. They would be traveling too slow, with too many people, to risk a short cut through the barren sands.

"If you had your own khalasar, my little Moon, you could be swift and cross this desert in a week, maybe two. We will take the longer route, and Rhaego will reach a full three moons of age when we arrive in Astapor. Longer, but safer."

She groaned to herself quietly at that. Two and a half moons. That was a long time to go without a bath.

. . . .

Every morning, she ignored the stares, and just kept to herself and Rhaego while they traveled. The land beyond the river was dry, flat, and rocky. Scarcely any trees grew in the dry dust, but a few dead ones were wedged so tightly between rocks that they must have died of suffocation. They looked the same as Dany had felt living under the thumb of her brother, stunted and restrained until dead.

Drogo told her that once the Waste had been green and beautiful. The rich blue grass that horses and men alike thrived upon was abundant there, and this was the land the Great Stallion himself had settled after being born out of the Womb of the World, the vast lake in Vaes Dothrak. His herd had grown large, however, and had sought out better lands. The more people and horses that left the meadow, the drier the land became. The land mourned it's lost herd, and now the people left at the Source, the Womb of the World in the sacred city, were the only remnants of the Great Herd. If Rhaego was indeed Azor Ahai, the Stallion Who Mounts the World, the Red Waste would soon be green again, and the herds would come back as the milky Ghost Grass in Asshai and beyond would be chased away, back to the beaches of the sea. Ghost Grass choked out and killed all other grasses. Rhaego could prevent the end of the world, it would seem.

Daenerys did not like the day they reached the high cliff. She felt uneasy, which made Rhaego fuss. His cries grew more and more urgent, his wailing making her want to cry, too, the closer they got to the great edge. She did not like this place, but she had to dismount to tend to him. The dirt had turned to sand in places, and piles of craggy rocks dotted the landscape. The rocks seemed to have faces, glaring at her, and she had to look away from the dirt; it looked like it had been spotted with blood. _No__, it's just seems that way, the sands are just different colors,_ she tried to tell herself, but her heart pounded as she searched for a place to sit to change and feed her son.

She was so nervous and ill at ease that her milk would not let down for him. He would latch on and try to nurse, only to pull away and wail. She did the only thing she could; she closed her eyes and shut out the rest of the world. She closed her ears, she ignored the heat, she went deep within herself where it was just her and her son. It was no good, she had nothing for him. She cried and kissed him, "I'm so sorry, my sweet boy," she whispered to him and then tucked him back in his carrier before remounting her silver mare and rejoining the khalasar.

Rhaego's wails and cries seemed to go on for hours as they traveled through those strange heaps of rocks and dead brush. An odd sort of pressure was building in Dany's body, it was uncomfortable and reminded her of how it felt when she knew Viserys was watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake so he could hit her. She hated it, but hated more that it made her feel afraid. _I am blood of the dragon, I am not afraid of anything, _she told herself. She pulled out her half full water skin and took a deep drink, then another, which seemed to help nothing other than make it easier to breathe.

Drogo rode up to her and looked at her questioningly. "Rhaego?" he asked.

She shook her head. "He's fine, just cranky. I don't think he likes the heat," she lied. No sense in getting him concerned because she was being childish. She shifted Rhaego out of his carrier to nurse him while she rode, hoping with Drogo right there she _could_. Rhaego glared at her for a moment before trying to nurse again, but latched on after a moment and started gulping and sighing in satisfaction. She took a deep cleansing breath.

Drogo leaned over and reached out to her. He squeezed her leg gently and looked her directly in the eyes before he rode ahead. She was left to watch as his red stallion moved forward, stunned at his obvious and very unusual display of affection in front of everyone. Everybody around them had seen it, and he hadn't cared. She felt herself flush, she ducked her head and smiled. Rhaego's mouth twitched in a smile around her breast before continuing his long overdue meal, patting her with a little fist.

That night, as they lay in bed, Drogo snaked an arm around her waist and stroked her skin as she was nursing the baby one last time before sleep. "What happened?" he murmured in her ear. "You were distressed today."

She sighed. "There was an evil in that place," she whispered back. "It looked like there was blood on the ground, and the rocks were watching me."

He froze. "You could feel the spirits of the Vast," he said after a long moment. "They guard the gateway to the Red Waste. The spirits of the men and horses that cannot be released until the coming of the Khal of Khals and the Waste is green again. They are the ones who betrayed the Great Stallion by leaving the grassland."

"I had no milk there, and Rhaego was hungry," she replied. "I wish I had told you."

"I've never known our boy to cry so long. I knew something was wrong," he whispered, and kissed her ear as he held her. "The spirits must have been watching him. They know he has come for them."

"I never want to ride through there again, Drogo, not while he's still so young" she said shakily, lifting Rhaego up and patting him gently on the back to settle his stomach, hoping she wouldn't wake him in her agitation.

"Not much chance of that. We're taking a ship to your lands, Khaleesi." He held out his hands for his sleeping, milk drunk son, and then tucked him into his bed.

* * *

Ok, bonus points to the reader who can tell me where the spirits of the Vast live? :)

And, yes, my Dany and Drogo are heading a bit out of character as they develop and grow together since they did not get that chance in the show. I really feel as though they would have become more playful had he not died so soon in their marriage. My math indicates they'd been together for slightly over a year, at most, when he fell from his horse.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I really felt that there should be something remarkable about the place where Drogo and Rhaego died in the show. So, in memorium, I made that place the Vast, where thousands of spirits mourn.

* * *

Things were getting discouraging. The mountains seemed to never end, a great unbroken chain as far to Dany's right as she could possibly see. The heat and the rocks seemingly went on forever, continuing on to her left just as far, with some mountains dotting the faraway horizon, but they could only be seen in the early morning. The rest of the day was too hot, the heat radiating off the ground in waves blocked the view. Dany was grateful that her water skin seemed to never be empty, that Rhaego was still small enough that the heat didn't seem to bother him much, and he wasn't heavy enough to put much strain on her body as she carried him.

They camped that night near an enormous rock overhang, the heat pressing down on them like a blanket before the sun went down. That night, Drogo consulted his crudely drawn map, hoping to find the landmark on it. It was, and to Dany's relief, they were much further along the route than she estimated.

"Soon, we will turn west, and travel through this mountain pass. A river lies on the other side, and then Astapor," he pointed out to her on the map. "But before we turn west, we should find the hidden spring, somewhere here," he pointed on the map. "It comes up directly from the rock, and there are only a few signs that it's there. Cold, fresh water, Daenerys. And a bath for you and Rhaego."

Dany was relieved. "May the Great Stallion be so merciful," she whispered. She had been doing her best to keep herself and the baby clean, but he had not been immersed entirely in water since his birth, and she knew he would enjoy it as much as she did. She was meticulous about cleaning him after every change, and had been using her olive massaging oil to keep his skin cleansed. He had not yet suffered either rash or sourness that she'd experienced with some of the other babes in the khalasar, so she supposed she was doing something right.

Drogo liked to poke his little tummy and grin. He was proud of his little boy, and pleased that Dany was such an excellent mother to him. Rhaego was gaining weight rapidly on his mother's milk, filling out in his arms and legs with pudgy little rolls on his two month old body. To Dany's relief, the first few weeks of ravenous, constant feeding ended, and Rhaego seemed more content now to sleep and watch the world around him for a time when he woke instead of waking every hour to demand food.

Dany nursed him one last time before slipping her snoring child into his bed, a thick fur protecting him from the chill of the desert night, draped over him in his swaddling clothes. She lay down, and watched Drogo pace in the dimming light of the brazier, his face pulled into a scowl as he pondered what to do next.

"What troubles you, my Khal?" she asked softly.

"I'm deciding," he replied, and stopped pacing to stand in front of her.

"Deciding what?" she prompted.

He paused for a long moment. "We should camp down in the sunlight, and travel in the night. We have stars to show the way, and we may make faster time," he said finally.

"We're further along than I thought," she encouraged him.

"Water is running low. We need to cut back again."

She was silent. She had not known. The khalasar was going thirsty, watching her drink as much as she liked. It was as though she'd been kicked in the chest by her horse.

Drogo saw her face, and immediately was kneeling in front of her. "YOU are the mother to the Stallion Who Mounts the World, Daenerys. You must drink. You must feed the Khal of Khals so he may grow to stop the ending of the world. I believe this, and there is not a single man or woman or child in our khalasar who does not feel the same. I will find the spring, and we will rest for as long as it takes for everyone to recover."

The overhang offered some protection from the beating sun the next day. There was little to no noise in the khalasar, even the horses were resting quietly, covered in large tent structures that were strung from rock to rock, taller than the Khal's tent. Dany was immensely grateful for the rest, no need to wake early and mount her horse, no need to pack Rhaego in his carrier while it was so hot. She was more careful about her water, too, mindful of other thirsty bodies under her and the Khal's protection.

. . . . . . . . . .

Night traveling was much more pleasant. Desert nights were cold, so Dany was not surprised to find her large _hrakkar_ pelt tied to the back of her saddle. The giant white lion fur was thick and soft, the great predator of the Dothraki Sea had hunted in high and sharp grasses, making a thick coat necessary. Drogo had slain this one the day the wine merchant had attempted to poison her, outside Vaes Dothrak. It was meant to be the big event of the day, the presentation of this pelt to the mother of Azor Ahai, but instead there was a poisoner dealt with and sworn words to the Mother of the Mountains to claim the Iron Throne.

Ser Jorah had taken his gifted horse that night, a fine stallion of black color, and had left the khalasar. Some said he rode toward Qohor, others said he was riding for Pentos. Dany had been hurt that he'd left without saying goodbye; he and Doreah had been the only two to speak with her in the Common Tongue after her brother had died. She wondered why he had gone so soon after reaching Vaes Dothrak. He had saved her from being poisoned, then was gone the next day. Drogo had been indifferent, shrugging his shoulders when she'd questioned him, but secretly he'd been glad the Andal had left. He had seen how the older knight had been looking at his sweet young wife, and he didn't like it at all. Daenerys was _his_, and he'd do any amount of bone breaking to keep it that way.

Dany ran her fingers through the thick, short fur, marveling at its softness. She wrapped it around her shoulders, bundling herself and Rhaego within as her silver mare kept pace with Drogo's red. She leaned back slightly against the back of her saddle and found she could ride a bit more comfortably. Before long, she was drifting to sleep, hands still holding the reins, Rhaego snoring lightly on her chest.

She was startled awake when her silver mare stopped abruptly and bent her head to the ground, blowing and snorting as she slowly took in a scent. Scrambling to grab the reins as they were jerked from her hands, she looked around in the dark, finding the khalasar moving below her, far down the steep hill. She sent a whispered thanks to the Great Stallion for a bright moon; if she had been lost, it would have been death.

Her mare took a few stumbling steps and then ducked her head down further, and began to drink. _Water. _She had found the spring. They would have traveled right by it if she'd been awake to keep her horse from leaving the khalasar. Dany let her clever mare drink her fill before heading carefully back down the hillside, where she searched quickly for Cohollo or Jhogo, who would be able to ride faster to catch up with Drogo.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

By sunrise, the khalasar was set up and water was being restored. Dany didn't want to sleep first, instead immediately going in for a soak in her freshly filled tub, cuddling Rhaego as he explored the water around him. Nursing him in the bath wasn't difficult, and Dany briefly entertained the idea of just staying there all day.

Drogo watched them both play in the tub, amused. He sometimes forgot how young his beautiful wife actually was. Her seventeenth nameday was approaching, and he knew the Westerosi tradition meant he was to get her a gift or mark the day somehow. Her last nameday was marked with finding out she was pregnant, and there was really no topping that, he knew. He needed suggestions, but he knew better than to go to Cohollo or Jhogo. Dumb fucks would only make jests or be of no help at all, not that he expected them to behave any differently. He was on his own.

Dany watched him from the tub. "You're thinking," she teased, exaggerating a pleased tone. "What's the matter?"

He grinned at her. "My head and I do talk on occasion," he tossed back. "Nothing is the matter. Mind your own business."

She laughed. "You ARE my business," she replied. "I manage the men of this house."

"Fuck that! I'll take my business elsewhere," he jested, getting up from his seat on the bed. He bent over the bath and kissed her thoroughly before walking to the door. "I'll send Irri in to fish you both out before you get too wrinkled and grow gills in there." A splash of water hit him as he left the tent. He grinned, but didn't turn around. He had plotting to do for a gift.

After Irri had come and done her fishing duty, Dany folded herself up on the bed with Rhaego, letting him have her breast as she drifted in and out of sleep. The heat pressed down on the tent after a while, making sleep impossible, so she propped him on her hip and went for a short walk to catch a breeze, checking on horses and showing his face to the khalasar as they walked. There were more smiles now than stares, and Dany found herself much more comfortable out in the view of everyone.

Soon, they ducked back into their own tent. She stripped him down to just his changing clothes, and took off her dress. It was much more comfortable inside that way. She put him down on the bed and just sat next to him, looking at him.

Rhaego's skin was getting darker with each passing day, as was her own, she noticed. His wild dark hair was growing longer, almost long enough to tame with his first leather tie. She ruffled it slightly, brushing it back from his eyes so she could look at them. They were gradually turning a dark violet, like her brother Rhaegar's had been, she supposed, the description from her books matching what she could see. His little nose reminded her of Viserys when he'd been a young boy, before the world turned him cruel to her. Rhaego's little chin was shaped like his father's, as was his brow. She could see no resemblance to herself in his features, she sighed sadly. Drogo had disagreed strongly when she had brought it up once, pointing out that his facial shape and expressions were hers alone. She couldn't see it, though, but maybe with time.

She looked down and saw her arms and chest were speckled with the sun's caress, and she imagined her face to be the same, but her beautiful glass mirror had long since been packed away for the entire journey. She would have to wait for Astapor to see her own reflection again. Maybe she would hold Rhaego up to the mirror next to her so she could compare them, but she smiled at the thought. No matter what he looked like, he was hers, and she thought him the most beautiful baby to have ever opened his eyes. She kissed him softly on his perfect little nose, and cuddled up with him once more on the bed to sleep.

* * *

A/N: So, Ser Jorah Mormont took his pardon and left immediately on his gifted horse in this story. With Drogo alive and healthy, there really is no room for him here, and I personally mistrust anyone who says they do things simply out of love. Love is such a mercurial thing, and it has already made Jorah a traitor more than once. I imagine he made his way home to Bear Island with his pardon, only to be castigated by Lady Maege and the rest of the ladies of House Mormont, and rightly so. And Jon Snow can go right ahead and keep wielding Longclaw.

AND . . . Before anybody gets their knickers in a bind, I fudged Dany's age a bit. Her age in the books screamed TOO YOUNG for me (she found out she was pregnant with Rhaego on her fourteenth birthday, YIKES George!) but in the show she looked to be about 18 (our lovely and brilliant Emilia Clarke is 25, I think) when these events took place. So, I'm making her 16. AND I'M TELLING THE STORY, SO THERE! :P

Dragon eggs are coming next chapter, and then baby dragons SOON. I promise. I already wrote the chapter(s), they just need more fine tuning. I want it written as though you are with Dany, and you can feel it. Patience, my lovelies, and it will be awesome.

Warning: the next two weeks is our big move across the country. I have no idea when I will be able to write new chapters, but I DO know how to find a Starbucks for free WiFi to get them uploaded! ;) Anyone have any helpful hints for a LONG drive with a 5 year old and an 11 month old? I am SO open to suggestions. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

WOW! 100 reviews! You guys are amazing, and I'm so happy you're pleased with my story. A special thank you for all the suggestions for my kiddos to have a great trip to their new house! I have a list of fun things to do with them now, and I really appreciate it. Thanks for hanging in there, things are going to really start happening now!

* * *

Daenerys could smell Astapor before she could see it, a great stinking rot of bodies and decay overpowering the tang of the sea at low tide. She rode next to Drogo in silence, nervously pulling her hood over her hair and shielding both her eyes and her child with her linen cloak. After Ser Jorah had saved her from the wine merchant's poison, she had no love for outsiders, and if the Usurper knew where she was to send a poisoner, then she would be reported to him from Astapor as fast as a ship could sail from the harbor of Slaver's Bay.

Drogo had the khalasar make camp a few miles upriver from the stink of the city. They camped on the side of the mountain in a formation of tents to make the size of their force immediately known. Khal Drogo commanded four times as many men than any other khalasar in history, and he was not about to waste an opportunity to show it. He also planned on the rumors of his wife's strength and power spreading throughout the city, which would only serve to multiply the fear. The city was theirs, without ever having to raise a blade or loose an arrow.

Dany waited nervously for the city to send their envoys. They didn't have long to wait and she watched with curiosity as they approached, horses laden with heavy loads and men on foot, climbing the long hill and every step sinking them into the rocks and sand. "Drogo?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving the advancing group.

"Gifts," he replied, stroking her arm briefly. He leaned over and kissed her forehead softly, wordlessly asking her to stay hidden, and broke through his waiting men to stand and receive the gifts. Irri approached her Khaleesi and stood with her, a sleep heavy Rhaego in her arms as Dany pulled her shawl up and over her hair.

A clean and beardless young man lead the envoy. _Pretty,_ was the first thought that went through Dany's mind as she peeked through the mass of bodies between them. _I wonder if he smells of perfume or has ever swung a sword? _A dangerous thing to do, sending such a young colt to pander to a man so feared as Khal Drogo, very dangerous. Dany briefly wondered if the pretty boy was trembling in his shoes like she had done upon first seeing her husband.

The man stepped in front of the Khal. "We come with gifts to honor you, Khal Drogo, and a message for Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, and Mother of Azor Ahai, the Promised Prince."

She was stunned. _They already know I'm here._ She stepped forward slowly to stand next to Drogo, slightly behind the arm he subtly extended to keep her shielded from the messenger, in guise of resting his hand on the handle of his arakh. "Yes?" she asked, finding confidence with the touch of Drogo's skin to hers as she laid her hand on his forearm. No harm could possibly come to her with her Sun and Stars so close.

"Magister Illyrio Mopatis sends his regards, and a gift to congratulate the birth of the Khal of Khals, Khaleesi," the man bowed almost to the ground. "Tales of walking in fire have reached his listening ears, and he sends a gift you may find most useful to your Targaryen blood."

Two slaves stepped forward, bearing a heavy leather box, decorated with unrecognizable letters and words.

"Leave it," Drogo said, and the slaves set the box down gently at her feet.

"Mighty Khal Drogo of the Great Grass Sea, Lord and Master of Vaes Dothrak, honored Father of Azor Ahai, we bring gifts for you as well," the messenger continued, turning to face the Khal once more. "We bring you horses, slaves, and gold."

"Bring me ships, and we'll not burn your city to the ground," he commanded, and crossed his arms. _End of that discussion,_ she thought, bemused.

The messenger bowed, his hands raised in submission. "I am a messenger of the Magister. I will speak to the leaders of the great city on your behalf, and let them know your urgency, and you shall have your answer when the city's envoy approaches. We were anticipating your arrival, great Khal. Astapor was not. Magister Illyrio asks that I may look upon your son's face so I can tell the good magister I have seen the Prince That Was Promised with my own eyes."

Dany looked up to Drogo's face, and he nodded once. She turned and beckoned to Irri to bring Rhaego to her. She met her handmaiden halfway, and took the sleeping baby from her. He woke slightly and fussed as he shifted in her arms, but quickly calmed as he laid his head on her shoulder, comforted by his mother. Approaching the messenger, she gently pulled back the linen blanket shielding her son's face from the sun.

"His face is Targaryen, but with the strength of stallions," the messenger said reverently. "I am honored to look upon his face, Khaleesi Daenerys. I will tell the Magister of your kindness." He bowed again and backed away slowly.

Drogo subtly elbowed her, his gesture an obvious, "I told you so." She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

The messenger backed away respectfully, and as soon as he had enough distance away, Drogo whispered teasingly, "I said Rhaego looked like you." She elbowed him in the ribs with more force than she intended. "Ow, fuck. Your tiny elbows are sharp, wife."

"Only as sharp as that smart ass mouth deserves. Next time I aim for that mouth, husband." Both of them knew the threat was empty, and he grinned.

As the envoy left, the slaves and horses relieved of their burdens, the Dothraki went back to tending camp. Irri came and took Rhaego to their home. Dany stood in the same place she had been, looking down at the box and wondering what it was Magister Illyrio had gifted her that she would find so useful.

Drogo walked past her before he stopped and came back. "Help with that?" he asked. She looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back and hoisted the box up over his shoulder, and took her small hand with his free one. "Let's take this to Rhaego. He might be curious."

Once inside her home, Dany unsealed the lid of the heavy box. Drogo sat on the bed near her and took Rhaego into his lap. She smiled at them nervously, then opened the lid of the box. A sealed scroll of parchment lay on a bed of thick silk, secured in place, and she eagerly took it up and broke the seal, translating and reading aloud the letter for Drogo to hear.

"My dear Khaleesi Daenerys, I am writing to bring you joyful news. Robert Baratheon is dead." She paused and quickly looked up at Drogo before continuing. "His wife's bastard is now seated on your father's throne. Act quickly, and many lives will be saved. Enclosed in this box are maps of Westeros, and detailed maps of the harbors surrounding Dragonstone, your ancestral home. Stannis Baratheon, who took your family's stronghold, is currently traveling to recruit more bannermen to overthrow this bastard and take the throne himself. If you wish to reclaim your family's high seat of honor, many would follow you."

She paused, and then lifted the layer of silk. A large leather bound book lay there, and she opened it, finding maps. Very detailed maps, and she recognized the Magister's handwriting on many areas. Quickly, she began reading the letter again.

"Under the book," she began, then had to put the letter down in order to use both hands to place the heavy book of maps next to Drogo on the bed. Picking up the letter again, she began again. "Under the book is a gift of both wealth and power. Only wealth for me, but great power for you." She lifted another layer of the silk, and saw three objects of such beauty she could not speak. Jewels, she thought. Large, slightly oval, and scaled, designed by some expertly talented jeweler, no doubt. She lifted one of the them up, expecting it to be hollow and fragile, and nearly dropped it in surprise at its weight, heavy as solid stone. The scales were individual glittering gemstones in red and black, catching the muted sunlight and they seemed to glow. She looked down at the other two, one intense emerald green, the other opalescent white and flecked with gold.

Drogo started, and then set Rhaego down on the bed. "Are those what I think they are?" he asked, excited.

Dany shrugged and put the stone back, picking up the letter again. "I trust by now you have retrieved your eggs." She looked up at Drogo and asked, "Eggs?"

"Those are dragon's eggs, Daenerys. Only in the lands beyond Asshai, the lands of shadows, could they have been found, and long ago. I wonder how long that old man has been hiding them?" Drogo laughed. "I wonder what he means for you to do with them?"

A long pause as he watched her face. "Hatch them," she whispered, scanning through the rest of the letter. "I'm meant to hatch them and bring dragons back into the world."

* * *

Well, *I* thought it was an awesome idea. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

Ok, this one's kind of tense, but we'll pull through with a bit of MA tension relief at the end. Sound good? ;)

* * *

Daenerys dreamed of dragons. She dreamt of fire and blood, and an immense black castle sitting on ragged rocks overlooking the sea. She had dreamt of an enormous room, the walls dark and shining, a large pit carved from the very rock in the center of the room, large arched alcoves lining the far wall that looked out to the crashing waves. She could smell the salt of the sea, brimstone and hot coals from the pit, and a sweet perfume she had never known in all her short waking hours of life. Dany had seen herself in this dream, standing in that room and in the pit, blood flowing from her body as though she'd just given birth, engulfed in bright, white hot flames.

She awoke with a start, beads of sweat running over her body in the cold early hours of the morning. Drogo slept on next to her, Rhaego still slumbering peacefully in his little bed. All was quiet in their tent, but Dany could hear the beginnings of a new day outside, slaves starting fires and small children fussing in the growing light. She kept herself lying down, not wanting her movements to wake everyone in her home.

She looked over to the box where her eggs were kept. She had taken out all the silk and filled it with sand from the edge of the Waste and lit candles around them, keeping them warm in their now fireproof nest. The candles had burned low, but were still lit. Candles would have to do until she could find out more, and that could only happen when they arrived at Dragonstone. She had been born there, so she had been told. Her mother, Rhaella, had died giving birth to her there, but Ser Willem Darry had immediately taken her, her wetnurse, and her brother Viserys to Braavos to hide them before the servants of the immense ancestral seat of the Targaryens could surrender them to the Usurper and certain death. Her brother Rhaegar's wife and small children weren't so fortunate.

She rolled over in the bed, curling herself around Drogo's large frame, comforted by his warmth and scent as she pressed her face in between his shoulder blades and tucked her arm around his side. She drifted back to sleep, only waking slightly when he got up and put a still sleeping Rhaego in bed next to her. When the baby woke to feed, she gathered her books and her letter from the Magister to reread as she fed him. From what she could gather from the books Ser Jorah had given her for a wedding gift, Dragonstone was the last place dragons were actually hatched. From there, they were taken to Kings Landing to serve whichever Targaryen king sat on the throne. She also discovered that as time went on, the smaller the dragons became; the last ones were hardly larger than the wild dogs that followed the khalasar. _They tried to domesticate them and they weakened, no longer thriving in the harness of men_, she mused, switching Rhaego over to her other breast as he began to fuss.

"Are you sick?" Drogo asked, coming in the tent and finding her still abed, lost in her thoughts. Rhaego had long since fallen asleep at her breast. She put him down gently and covered him with her dressing gown. She hoped that he would stay slumbering while surrounded by her scent.

"No," she sighed. "I'm thinking in riddles and myths."

"Dragon eggs, you mean," he said, gesturing to all the papers and books scattered around her on the bed.

She smiled at that. "I dreamt of them last night," she began. When he looked at her questioningly, she continued, "It was just a dream, but felt real. I wonder if I can figure out where I was in Dragonstone and find it again."

"How are we going to have you hatch eggs that have turned to stone? That's the part I'm trying to figure out," he stated, reaching his hand out to get her out of bed. "The slave traders will be here today before the sun gets too hot. I need your ears. They have a language slave, but too many speakers confuse the deal."

She sighed and dressed herself in a long linen dress and covered her head with a linen shawl to hide her hair and eyes. It was one thing for the Magister to seek her out, and another thing entirely for all of Astapor to know what she looked like. It seemed to be widely known the last Targaryen was married to the great Khal, however, so she wondered if all her efforts were really worth it. Still, she felt protected from prying eyes behind her veil.

She followed Drogo as he talked to the slavers, their translator a mere slip of a copper skinned girl who smoothed over the insults and rude comments the slavers made toward her and Drogo. She was young and of an age with Dany, who found the young girl to be very beautiful. Dany soon pushed back her veil and stood a little straighter. She was struggling to not give away that she understood their bastard Valeryian, but her inner dragon wanted to set them all afire. _How dare they talk about us like this, _she thought indignantly. The more they talked, the more they called Drogo a savage and her a whore, the more enraged she became. By the time the deal was done, she was trembling with rage.

She watched as the slaves were grouped together, more than a thousand in all, the 300 Lhazareen among them, and she listened as they were counted and the slavers tried to swindle Drogo. After stepping in and counting in Dothraki with them until both sides were satisfied, she watched them leave, the slavers loaded into huge palanquins carried by slaves, their attendants following behind on foot. After watching them all the way back to the city gates, she turned on her heel and went directly to their home. Drogo caught her arm right before she entered, intending to speak with her first, but let go almost immediately at the feel of her heat. _Oh shit, here we go,_ he thought.

"What happened?" he asked, stepping back at the blaze in her eyes. _Oh, she's pissed. Fuck._

"They insulted us! Drogo, they think you're some sort of idiot savage that can't count!" she seethed. "And I'm just your whore."

"The fuck they said," he demanded. "You are NO whore. You are Khaleesi, MY wife, daughter of Targaryen dragons, mother to Azor Ahai. They are less than the horse shit beneath your boots. They are nothing."

She smiled at his words. "You're my Sun and Stars," she whispered, tears in her eyes. She walked into his waiting embrace. She buried her head in his chest, drawing in a deep breath of his scent to get herself grounded once again. She blinked back her tears, clinging onto his vest with both hands.

He pulled back. "You're too warm," he chuckled. "Come, let's go inside and relax a bit. Once the gold is delivered, we will be rid of these extra mouths and we can board our ships."

"We should just sack this rotting city and take all their ships, no matter the agreement," she muttered as she walked into their home. "We have the force."

"Nothing would please me more. But then we would be left with all those mouths to feed, mouths that don't know how to wield an arakh or sit a horse. Useless mouths," he replied.

"I am not permitted to wield a weapon, though I am Khaleesi, my Sun and Stars, does that make _me_ useless?" she asked, stepping in front of him and looking up to his face with a smile on hers, head tilted to the side and hands on her hips.

"No, you're not useless. I need you to feed my son and warm my cock," he replied, teasing, then grinned at the look on her face. "I wouldn't dare put an arakh or bow in your hands _now, _because I know you'd kill me with it just fine."

"Fuck off, you asshole," she retorted, grinning at him and slapping him on the chest. He laughed aloud, so she smacked him again with a lot more force behind it, aiming for the same spot.

"Stop beating me. Ow! Help, my Khaleesi hits me!" he teased, backing away as she rained slaps down on his chest, her laughter getting the best of them both. He grabbed her hands and held her wrists together with one hand, high above her head. "You're too small to hurt me so much, Moon of my life!" She struggled for a moment, laughing, before kicking him in the shin with her bare foot. "Fuck! Ow!" He twirled her around with one hand and dropped her on the bed, pouncing on top of her.

She put up a token struggle, knowing exactly what he was after, but gave in quickly as she helped him lift her dress. He kissed her neck and trailed his tongue down the line of her shoulder as he pushed slowly into her from behind, enjoying her panting gasps of pleasure as he did.

Drogo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to help control the exquisite feeling of sinking into his wife. _Sweet, sweet Daenerys. _She arched and pressed back against him, making him moan as he grabbed her hips to control her movement. Slowly, he began to guide her hips, unable to restrain his groans of pleasure as she would grind against him after each thrust. He began to wish she would shut up, her sounds escalating his urgency, but no, he didn't want her to ever stop making those sweet joyful sounds that told him he was pleasing her, too.

He reached around and softly brushed his fingers across her center, sternly reminding himself to be gentle. Last time he'd used his fingers on her, he'd been too eager and too rough. She didn't exactly cry out in pleasure as he had hoped, instead going quiet and squeezing her eyes shut, and couldn't reach her peak. He'd been careful to use just her hand from then on, trusting her to please herself. To his immense relief, this time he was quickly rewarded as she began to pulse around him, panting out quiet cries. She tossed her head back and called out his name as she came; he withdrew from her after a moment and flipped her over onto her back, quickly returning to her heat.

He enjoyed her for a few long minutes, teasing her, thrusting slowly and then quickly before slowing again. She began to arch her back again for him, pressing herself closer to him, always closer. He grinned and kissed her, but not with as much skill as he would have liked to have shown her in that moment. She didn't seem to care, returning his kiss and digging her heels into the base of his spine, urging him deeper. "Harder, more," she whimpered, pulling away from his kiss. "I need more, Drogo."

Surprised, he began thrusting a bit harder. "Yes? This?" he asked, barely able to speak. _This is new,_ he thought. He was so used to being soft and gentle with her that this seemed almost alarming and not such a good idea.

"Yes, more!" she cried, digging her nails into his shoulders. _Fuck, she's got to be drawing blood__,_ he thought, and sped up a bit more, really starting to pound her. He was afraid it was too much, too hard for his little Moon, but Dany cried out again, and he let himself fall with her, relieved that the pain in his shoulders held him off long enough. He kissed and held her tightly for a long time, not wanting to leave her warmth. Her sweet scent engulfed his senses, intoxicating him and making him drowsy. Still, he stayed within her until his body couldn't any longer.

He pulled away finally with a groan. "You feel so good. I'm sad to leave you," he whispered, kissing her once more. She hummed out a sound of contentment, and he rolled them over so she was laying on his chest. He held her gently atop him as she fell asleep, her breath finally slowing, and he smiled. He held her for a while longer, gently stroking her hair as she buried her nose into his chest as she slept. He smile broke into a huge grin when he thought about her gift. She was going to like it.

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I'd like to take a moment to thank hotels with free Wi-Fi. It's as awesome as all of my readers and reviewers. You guys make me want to write more.


	13. Chapter 13

Onward we go! Amazing what I'm learning to do with this Windows phone!

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Two months passed as the khalasar waited for their ships to assemble and be ready. Messengers came swiftly with the sunrise to announce it, seeming to carry the relief of the entire city with them. Dany quickly was ready with Rhaego, and they mounted their horses, riding them down the side of the mountain and through the city gates.

Dany knew enough of cities that she wasn't overwhelmed with the size of it, unlike many of the Dothraki, including Irri who was riding next to her. The poor girl didn't dare blink as she rode, Dany noticed, she was too terrified one of the clay baked buildings was going to topple on her. She did the only thing she could think of to comfort her friend, and reached out and squeezed her hand subtly as they rode through the winding and grooved streets.

Drogo led the khalasar through the streets of Astapor, curling his face into a snarl against the horrid smell. _Too many fucking bodies living too close together. May the Great Stallion give me strength to not vomit on these assholes, and to reach a day that I may ride in tall, clean grass once again,_ he thought. He used his peripheral vision to check on his wife and baby as they made their way through, not happy Daenerys was riding so close to the edge of the khalasar, despite her wearing her nameday gift. He had a boiled leather jerkin like Westerosi warriors wore made for her, but it was distinctly more feminine. He couldn't believe how much she had liked it, nor how damn sexy she looked wearing it. But he still wished she would get behind him where she was flanked by more riders for her protection.

The harbor smelled worse than the city, adding the stink of rotting fish to the sewage, unwashed masses, and rotting corpses of slaves waiting to be burned. Dany covered her mouth and nose with her veil as she rode her silver mare onto the wooden dock, wishing desperately for the mellow sweet scent of the Dothraki Sea.

Rhaego didn't seem bothered, but he was never bothered when he was sleeping. At 6 months of age, he was growing rapidly, and was able to sit up on his own, which meant he slept more and fed more when he was awake. He had been grabbing food off her plate and eating it, much to her relief, so she always broke up small pieces and put them to one side for him to taste.

They dismounted and their horses were led aboard the _Balerion_. Dany immediately went up the gangplank and onto the main deck of the ship, Rhaego on her hip. She was led to their small cabin, where their bedding and Rhaego's bed were already prepared. She was content. The wood interior was bright and clean looking, smelled better than the harbor did, and it was easy to maneuver despite its small size.

She found Drogo on the main deck, watching the horses and riders being loaded on all the ships he could see from his vantage point. He let his eyes rest on her for a moment, and then turned back to his task. She couldn't believe that she was actually seeing this, the dream to leave Essos and regain her father's throne was actually coming to fruition, her powerful husband leaving his own kingdom to conquer hers. Fourteen of the Magister's good merchant ships had been refitted and turned battle ready and had already left the harbor weeks ahead of them, pirates turned mercenary willing to fight for a Targaryen cause in exchange for gold and a chance to pillage the coast of King's Landing.

Days later on the sea, she wasn't so sure that this was a very good idea. Two weeks later, she was sure it wasn't. Rhaego did not enjoy the small cabin after spending the first six months of his life in open air and spent most of his waking hours fussing and screaming, leaving her exhausted and miserable. She couldn't fault him for it, she missed being on a horse under the open sky, too. There was freedom on the plains, much more than she could find on a ship for him.

Drogo, like his son and the rest of the Dothraki aboard their ship, was not compatible with the sea. After a month on board the _Balerion,_ he was still sleeping on the main deck, unable to cope with being in their cabin or below with the horses. Dany hated sleeping alone, even with Rhaego snoring next to her in the bed. She missed Drogo's warmth and skin pressed to hers. He was so ill that he didn't even have an interest in her body, his eyes barely seeing her even when she stood in front of him.

She finally had Irri take her bed and tucked Rhaego in next to her. She took her _hrakkar_ and a large wool blanket and went up on the deck, finding Drogo huddled down with his blanket next to the railing. She came up quietly and sat down next to him. "Is there room in there for me?" she murmured, kissing him on the cheek. To her relief, he had not been sick that day.

He grunted an affirmative and opened his arms. She bundled her _hrakkar_ around his shoulders, then worked her way into his lap. She nestled in and rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of contentment. He was warm and had been sleeping, so he was pliable and compliant. He tucked her head under his chin and brought an arm up to hold her against his chest.

"We should have stayed in Vaes Dothrak," he said quietly. "This is misery."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I know," she whispered. "Another week and we'll be to Dragonstone. Our warships have already taken the island, all we need to do is get there, and then no more ships except to the mainland. An hour's trip, maybe two."

"Your home we will make our home," he stated. "We will have dragons there." He nudged her gently. "Ready to be a mother again?" he teased.

"I miss your playing," she whispered, smiling, and brought her mouth to his.

"Get me off this fucking water, and I'll see what I can do about that," he grunted when he pulled away from her sweet mouth. "You'll be sick of me playing, I'm going to be so happy to be off this fucking ship."

She giggled softly, and kissed him again.

"Oh, my little Moon," he moaned, putting his hands on her small waist and holding her tightly. "I hate to tell you no, but I must."

She sighed. "I thought maybe you might."

"Trust me, if I could, I would. But no part of my body wants anything to do with being on this water, and I cannot make it do what it won't."

"Keep that part to yourself, mighty Khal. I can hear your jesting friends now. _Khal Drogo's cock hates the water," _she teased gently, wrapping her arms around his neck in a gentle embrace.

"You keep quiet, wife," he growled. "I will make it up to you if you do."

"No Khaleesi wants her Khal to be unmanned," she promised, nuzzling her nose into his jawline. "I miss sleeping with you."

"I miss having you in my bed with me, too. This is fucking inconvenient." He squeezed her tightly against him, enjoying the feel of her breasts on his chest. _There's promise in me yet,_ he thought.

"We'll be there soon," she promised, kissing him tenderly on the cheek and settling herself down on his lap to sleep.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It was only after their arrival and Drogo had been gone on his lean red stallion for four days, scouting out the island, that he felt better. Dany had spent that time exploring her former home, meeting the people who were part of the household, like the maester. Maester Pylos was a middle aged man with a soft and gentle voice and a peaceful face. He seemed relieved to have Dragonstone back in the hands of a Targaryen, but she still did not trust him yet to help in the search for the room of her dreams. She wanted to find it on her own.

Rhaego had been quiet and happy since their arrival, and was content to spend most of his time in his carrier. He was now big enough that she could wear him on her back, much to her relief, his weight and size getting more and more difficult to manage on her front. He watched the world from her back, all the new faces and surroundings he took in stride from the safety of her proximity. The only time he was happy to be put down was either to eat or to sleep.

Drogo had come home in a much happier state than when he'd kissed her goodbye a few hours after arriving. He was with her in the massive bedchamber when Rhaego began to crawl, cautiously creeping forward on the giant woven carpet, shrieking excitedly at his own performance as he slowly made his way towards Drogo, who knelt down on the floor near the baby and waited patiently, rewarding him by swooping him up and laughing with him in delight when Rhaego reached him. "Nearly big enough for your horse and _arakh_, my son," he said proudly.

Dany suddenly realized that her days with her son were numbered. As soon as a Dothraki boy reached four years old, they were taken from their mothers and began their training as warriors. She wouldn't see him again for some years. She wondered if that tradition would still stand as they were so far from Vaes Dothrak, so far away from where the boys were kept under guard while being trained, protected until ready to leave as warriors. Young Azor Ahai would need his training in order to take his place in the world, ruling both Essos and Westeros, training that he was not at all likely to get elsewhere.

She turned away, unbidden tears filling her eyes. _Stop it,_ she told herself. _You knew. You knew this would happen. It needs to happen. Enjoy him while you can, then send him onward so he can do what he must._ She quickly choked down her sudden raw emotion.

"Daenerys?" She turned back around to see Drogo looking at her questioningly. "Are you sick?"

She immediately put a smile on her face. "No," she said softly, approaching him, posturing to sit in his lap. He immediately shifted Rhaego over so she had room, too.

"Now I feel I am Khal," he said, grinning, looking from Rhaego to her, both in his lap. He looked at her face. "You were crying," he stated. "Tell me."

"I just realized that he will have his fourth nameday before I blink again," she whispered, cursing her shaking voice.

Drogo paused, realizing her anguish. "He will need to go back to Vaes Dothrak. He must."

"I know, and that's why I'm crying. It will happen," she replied, agreeing with him no matter how her heart was already breaking. Rhaego needed to follow the tradition. It was the same as needing air to breathe, food to eat, and a horse to ride.

He held her tightly for a moment, and they watched Rhaego as his eyes began to roll as he drifted into sleep. Giggling quietly, Dany extracted her son from his father's arms and tucked him into his bed, kissing him sweetly on his cheeks and the top of his soft hair. She turned to go back to Drogo's lap, but ran right into him behind her instead and he engulfed her in his arms. Kissing her ear, he whispered, "He cannot be replaced, Khaleesi, but he should have a brother."

"Dragons first, Khal," she murmured back, smiling. "We will talk of more children after the dragons are hatched."

"Get going, then. I want more sons," he teased, smacking her lightly on her ass. "You're so fucking hot when you're pregnant."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to explore some more. I know what I need to find. I just need to reach it."

"Pack some food with you, and find a wet nurse for your son in case you become lost and die somewhere in this place," he joked, and then made a grab for her as she twisted out of his arms.

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To have more kids or not to have more kids . . . that is the question. I know Drogo wants a few more, and soon. Dany has a mission, and she's pretty focused on the task at hand.


	14. Chapter 14

Many thanks for your input and reviews! I love you guys.

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Daenerys had been poking around so many rooms, traveled down so many hallways that she was exhausted. Everything was starting to look the same. Frustrated, she sat down and leaned against the wall. It felt warm to her back. She looked down the long hallway she had just come from, the torches she had ignited made light flicker off the black walls carved out of the rock. Shining, like in her dream. Dany sat for a moment, pondering. _I must be under the actual structure. This is bedrock, here. This place is built on dragonglass! _She had thought her family's stronghold had been named for the giant dragon embedded in the wall, a huge beast turned to stone from greyscale, not because it was _made _of dragon's stone.

She plucked a torch out of its iron holding, and started walking quickly. There were no doors, not one, until she was almost running and passed one. Just one door in the entire length of the long hall in the pitch black. Holding her breath and praying to whichever gods were listening and granted such prayers, she pushed the heavy door. It didn't budge. She pushed it again, this time with her shoulder. Nothing. She shoved harder, thinking the door was just stuck, but it was unmovable.

"FUCK!" she screamed in her frustration, and kicked it fiercely. Not a single inch did it give to her. She was about to give up entirely when she thought better of it and stepped closer. Pressing her cheek to the door and running her fingers gently along the solid ironwood, she felt the tiniest crack in the facing. She brought the torch up close, and she was tempted for a moment to just light the door on fire, but she looked closer. Cleverly hidden was a strip of metal, running the entire door's length, from top to bottom. She could just manage to wedge her fingernail in between the metal and the wood, and it separated easily. The metal strip fell out and hit the floor as she moved out of the way, the loud strike on the floor making her jump. She stepped over it and gently pushed on the door, and it swung silently inward with ease.

From the doorway, she could see the light of the moon through several openings in the wall, but the room itself was too dark to see anything. She briefly debated whether or not to go back for Drogo, then scoffed at herself for being afraid of the dark. She took one step into the room, then one more, holding the torch up to see if there were more to light the room with. A sharp smell rose from a small basin carved in the wall, and she immediately knew what to do, and so touched her lit torch to it, recognizing the rare smell of naphtha. Yellow flame erupted from the basin and began to run along the wall, it's path made clear by the recess carved along the entire side of the room. Dany gasped and realized she was standing in the room of her dreams.

She stumbled to the pit in the middle of the floor and sat down quickly on some stones before she fell down. Hugging her knees and squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to not completely give in to her panic and fear, forcing herself to breathe slowly. All that blood, so much blood, but there would be dragons born into the world again, dragons to safeguard Rhaego's throne. After calming herself, she glanced around the room again. There were perches for young dragons, one so large that it was the same size she was. The stones in the pit lined it the whole way around, _like coals,_ she realized. _The glass itse__lf can be lit._ She was suddenly afraid of how hot that fire would be, hotter than the godswife's fire had been by much and more.

Gaining confidence, she got up from her spot and began walking around the room, exploring the alcoves and windows, amazed at how empty the room really was. _Well, with dragons, you don't want everything catching fire, _she admitted to herself. The stone itself seemed to be radiating heat, making the large space warm and comfortable. She realized she could move the eggs here immediately, and they would be kept warm until she was prepared to make them hatch.

Daenerys felt tired for the first time in days. She quickly walked out of the dragon's keep and made mental notes on her turns and twists and flights of stairs as she made her way back to Drogo and Rhaego, suddenly anxious to get back to them, back to the comforts of her home.

She entered the immense bedchamber on silent feet, and stripped her clothes off before sinking into the bed next to her Khal. Rhaego had long been asleep, she realized, so she got back up again and nursed him to ensure he would stay asleep for the remainder of the night, wanting to rest as much as she could for the task ahead. She had no knowing of the demands of dragons, she wanted to be ready for anything. After he dropped off to sleep, she tucked him back in his bed with a kiss and a nuzzle to his soft hair. He smelled so good, sweetly clean baby and the sharpness of fresh air.

Dany rolled over to Drogo and curled up into his side. Immediately, he was awake and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She let out a long sigh of relief, comforted by him immediately, her worries and concerns melted away when she was in his arms. She felt confident that she could put aside her unease about the enormous task ahead, at least for a time.

"I found it," she whispered in the darkness.

"I knew you would," he replied simply, kissing her on the forehead. "You're warm, little Moon."

She tilted her head up to meet his mouth with hers. "Only for you," she answered, and kissed him with everything she had.

He immediately responded, pulling her as tightly against him as he could without hurting her. "That satisfies me greatly, my wife," he whispered, and then kissed her back, letting his hands roam over her silken skin. "Daenerys," he whispered, breaking free from her lips.

"Shhh," she murmured, touching his face briefly before kissing him again. "I need you."

"You have me. Now and for all the tomorrows I'm allowed before I ride to the Nightlands, and even then, I am still yours."

. . . . . . . . . . .

She could stall no longer, Dany realized, standing within the dragon's keep once more. She knew what to do, and how to do it. She was armed with both folklore and what Maester Pylos could find in her family's scrolls and library, every single morsel of information she had soaked up over the past few days. Her dragons would need to share Rhaego's milk for a few days before moving on to meat, cooked meat. They would need to stay warm in their own keep, and Dany expected that she would not be able to leave them alone for any length of time until they grew beyond hatchlings and could fend for themselves at least a little.

Drogo helped her position the eggs in the pit, nestled in snugly with the tinder and wood packed in amongst the glass stones to ensure the stones caught fire. She had him bar the door behind him when he left with Rhaego, after she had kissed them both. She hoped she would see them again before many hours passed. She missed them both already.

Nervously, she stared at her eggs, soon to be her hatchling dragons. _This must be done for the good of the world entire,_ she thought, attempting to gather some bravery. She took some deep calming breaths before she tossed a flaming torch into the pit, watching the flames burst from the tinder and spread to the stones. They caught the fire as easily as cloth absorbs water, glowing first red and then yellow before turning white with heat. Taking a deep breath, she stepped down and into the roaring inferno.

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Sorry about that. It was the best way to divide up a REALLY long chapter. Next half coming as soon as I'm finished with it, I promise! A day, maybe two left of fine tuning. I hope I don't destroy you all with it *cringes*


	15. Chapter 15

Greetings from the East Coast of the United States! Thank you for the love and reviews! Here we go! Dragons! But, they come with a price. A bit graphic. MA to be safe. You are warned, and I'm sorry in advance if it breaks you or makes you hate me . . . *cringes*

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The fire slowly lessened its rage, and burned down to the rounded glass stones that glowed brightly in the night of the room. Daenerys sat in the middle, cuddling her new babies, tiny and helpless as they took turns suckling at her breasts. She felt dizzy and nauseated, so she laid down in the middle of the stones. She handled them gently as she laid down, and the sick feeling within her eased slightly. She was distracted from her pain as their little scratchy claws dug into her skin to cling to her, needing her as much as she needed them.

The little black one was her favorite. She had already named them, her sweet boys, and kept them in her arms when they weren't feeding. The black one she named Drogon, his color reminding her of the beautiful darkness of Drogo's hair. Rhaegal was born of the beautiful green egg, nobly named after both her brother and son, and Viserion, from the opalescent gold egg, to remind her of her brother's hair and his treachery. She loved them deeply already, as one does with anything that comes with such a steep price.

As she had stepped into the fire, she had felt a cramping in her body that she'd never had before, even while in labor with Rhaego. She began to bleed, just like in her dream. She cried out as the flames warmth embraced her, soothing her as she reached out for her eggs in her pain. The stones were turning white with the heat, and a wave of pain and sickness overcame her, causing her to gently lower herself to her knees in agony. As she braced herself on her hands and knees, her body expelled a rush of blood and a bubble, a tiny baby within it that she didn't even know she carried, not even big enough to have made itself known. She burst into tears, her baby gone in an instant in the flames, leaving her to grasp at ashes with shaking hands and slick, bloody fingers. She reached out and gathered her dragon eggs closer, blinded by the pain in her womb and in her heart, seeking solace from her unborn dragons.

She could _hear_ the dragons in their eggs, calling to her over the sounds of the stones. The stones made sounds of their own, almost as if they were singing, the fire making it resonate around her, only to be cut off by sounds of breaking glass overpowering the roar and thunder of the great fire. The eggs seemed to explode in the heat, cutting her tender skin with shards of their jeweled shells. She could hear the dragons cry out to her louder, and she helped them out of their shells, one at a time, as her sobs for her lost child overtook her. The flames burned away her blood as fast as it flowed, leaving her feeling weak one moment and rejuvenated the next as her cuts healed before her eyes. Unable to stand the roiling within her body, she laid down in the hot embers and flames, and tucked the newborn dragons into her arms, letting them get used to her scent and touch.

Astapor. They must have conceived in Astapor, she realized. Not long enough ago for her to even know she was pregnant. Her moon's blood never had a chance to return from Rhaego's birth, his constant nursing preventing it. She hadn't known. She lay in the hot fire, holding her dragons, and cried. She had wanted a girl, despite what the consequences would have been. Dothraki parents wanted sons, not daughters, especially Khals. Daughters were raised for other families to breed with, so they were fed with duty, but never with the care and attention they gave their sons.

The fire slowly died down as she cared for her dragons, and she waited until even the stones glowed only a dull red before taking them out. Blood trailed after her as she carried them to their prepared nest, surrounded by the flames from the recessed wall to keep them warm. Feeling weak, she laid down on the floor, the room starting to swim and swirl around her. She crawled over to her abandoned heap of clothes and covered herself, feeling a chill seep in from the open portals to the sea. Dany shivered, and had tried to crawl back into the pit for warmth when everything went dark.

. . . . . . .

Drogo waited in their bedroom for Daenerys to return. Rhaego had long since fallen asleep, so he went to the room across the wide breezeway from theirs and retrieved Irri from Jhogo's bed to watch the sleeping baby. He made his way back down the black hallway to the dragon's keep, deciding to wait just outside the door for her.

It seemed hours that he waited there, shifting from sitting to pacing to listening at the door. The throbbing roar and hiss of fire had long since vanished. He could hear sounds, though. Sounds that the room must have heard before, many times over. Dragons. A high pitched humming that seemed to be coming from the walls themselves. The dragons were hissing and squawking and squealing, but he couldn't hear his wife through the door. Still, he waited. She would come out when she was ready and they were cared for, he reasoned.

The sounds within seemed to escalate, the dragons starting to squeal and scream. It sounded as if they were alarmed or frightened, so Drogo unbarred the door. Slowly, he opened it, shocked at the heat still radiating from within. "Daenerys?" he called, stepping into the room. "Moon of my life, are you here?" he called teasingly. "You didn't hop out the window and fly, did you?"

His heart choked his next words, finding her on the floor in a pool of blood. Her clothes were draped over her as though she'd been cold, and they were soaked in blood. "Daenerys!" he bellowed, and gently picked her up. Swiftly, he had her out of the room, up the stairs, and into the chambers of Maester Pylos, a man he'd given scarce thought to since arriving. He knew only that the maester lived in the castle no matter the owners, belonging to the stronghold itself, and could heal many wounds and maladies.

Drogo was quickly pushed out the door again, left to wait out in another hall, for another long time. He paced. He raged. He beat his fists bloody against the wall, wiping his hands on clothes that were covered in Dany's blood. He leaned against the wall, slid down and finally, for the first time since he had been taken from his mother at the age of four, Khal Drogo cried. He was beyond caring if anyone saw. Everything he cared for was either in the room he was currently blocked from, or sleeping the sweet innocent sleep only babes could. He would leave his son to sleep, he decided. He would only wake the baby if they needed to say goodbye to a dead mother. Just the thought raised such a painful lump in his chest that he could barely breathe.

He felt suddenly as though he were an old man, older than Cohollo even, who had been a bloodrider to his father, Bharbo. Such an old man could honorably take his own life to save himself from the shame of defeat and a cut braid. He felt sick and his bones ached.

He slowly made his way down a flight of steps, and then up another to stand under the open sky. He stood and watched as the last of the daylight faded and the stars appeared. A bright silver moon began to rise from the sea, where it had already set over Essos. He wanted to go home. He wanted to take his wife and son and khalasar and return to where they belonged. This place was wrong and he felt something worse was waiting if they stayed.

He pondered to the stars for so long that when Maester Pylos found him there, it was painful to turn his neck to look at the man. "Yes?" he asked gruffly, hiding the terror and devastation that the next words could bring.

"Khal Drogo, Princess Daenerys, your Khaleesi, will live," the maester said in his soft and gentle voice. "She is weak, and very ill, but she will live."

Drogo dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. "Thank the Great Stallion for his mercy," he whispered, looking once more to the starry skies above.

Maester Pylos reached out for Drogo's bloody hands. "Let's see to your injuries, Khal Drogo, come. You may sit with her while I bind your hands. She will be glad to see you."

Drogo followed the maester, his shoulders slumped in relief. _She will live_, were the only words he could recall of their conversation. _She will live._

He sat in a wooden chair next to her bed, watching the faint but steady rise and fall of her chest. She was so pale, whiter even than she had been on their wedding day. He remembered her fear, her pallid skin that some slave had artfully tried to cover with a rosy pink tone. Now, a woman slept where the girl had been. She had been washed and clothed, she smelled of some clean, foreign soap. Her fingers were frail looking, her hand laid over her chest as she slept. He ached to reach out and take that hand, make her wake and look at him, but he was terrified of what he would see if he did.

Instead, he sat quietly next to her and watched her breathe. He discovered he was matching her breaths with his own. _We are of one flesh_, he thought. _And we will always be so._

"What happened?" Drogo asked, struggling with speaking the Common Tongue. He could understand more than he could speak, having practiced with Daenerys whenever he could manage to not tease her long enough for her to actually teach him something.

"The dragon's keep has claimed another Targaryen life," Maester Pylos said cryptically before having mercy on the giant man before him. "She miscarried down there in the pit of fire, like Rhaenrya, an ancient ancestor, before her."

Drogo felt part of himself die in that moment. She had been pregnant. Had she known? He certainly hadn't. It was his fault for rushing her to hatch the dragons so they could return home. His son's death was blood on his hands. _Kinslayer_, his mind whispered to him. _In your haste to leave, you murdered your own fucking son, and damn near killed your Daenerys, too, you selfish fuck. Your only fucking job, only one job in all this, was to protect her and keep her safe, keep your sons safe. Failure. You should cut your braid in shame.  
_

Once his hands were bandaged, he knelt down next to her and touched her face tenderly with swollen and bruised fingers. "I'm so sorry," he choked out, using words in the Common Tongue that the Dothraki did not have, but he could feel just the same. "My beautiful Daenerys, I'm so, so sorry." He kissed her cheek, barely a whisper of touch, and got up and left.

He struggled to saddle his red stallion, needing to ride despite his injured hands. For the first time, he felt ashamed. He was running from her. He was running from his boy. This was bigger than he was or could ever be. Nothing in his lifetime of being Khal had prepared him for this. He rode out the vast stronghold's gate and out onto the rough island land, his red stallion at a dead run.

He rode to the very edge of the island and built a fire on the edge of the cliff. He looked back to the vast castle, and could see the very room where the dragons were, red and glowing like a beacon in the night. Dragons had returned to the world. _At what cost?_ he thought miserably, and turned his back to his wife's home.

* * *

Yeah, okay. I know, all right? Bad business, that. But could he really go his entire life without making mistakes? We often make our worst errors with the ones we cherish most. Will Dany forgive him for completely bugging out on her?


	16. Chapter 16

Ok, I know you're all upset with me. I can take it. :) Hang in there with me, trust me, ok? Haven't I made it worth your while? Thank you for all the reviews! As upset as most of you were, I'm glad you're as attached to my Dany and Drogo as I am!

* * *

Daenerys found that she felt better in the dragon's keep with the glorious heat pulsating around her, the stones' humming much more quiet now as their heat slowly began to dissipate. Her body had healed quickly, her bleeding tapering off within two days. It was easier to eat, too, though her stomach turned against her as soon as she would leave the keep. She slept on the floor with her dragons, played with them, and fed them.

Rhaego didn't seem the least bothered by the heat, much to her relief, and the dragons discovered the baby liked to play. The little dragons crawled on him and he would push them off, laughing and patting them gently. Curious little animals, they were undeterred and would climb up on him as he tried to stand up and get away, nipping his face playfully. They chased each other, the dragons hopping after the crawling, giggling baby boy, only to have him turn around and chase them as they scuttled and hopped away, chirping and squawking. Rhaego did not like the dragons to share his milk, however. He would cling to Dany and push them away if they came close to her bared breast when they watched him nurse, chittering and clucking, from Dany's shoulders. Fortunately, they were past needing the milk, preferring the roasted meat that was brought every day.

She had been playing with all four of her babies when she felt a slight fluttering within. She froze, her expression immediately attracting Rhaego's attention, and he climbed into her lap. He patted her face and babbled at her, "Mmmm mmammammamm." She smiled at him and cooed for a moment before carrying him to the door and up the stairs.

She found herself at Maester Pylos' door, Rhaego in her arms, and she knocked on the door with a trembling hand.

"Your Grace? Are you well?" he asked, seeing her distress, and ushered her into his chamber. "I was just studying more about what happened to your ancestor Rhaenrya, trying to understand how this happens. I'm sorry don't have any more answers . . ."

"I think I'm still pregnant," she interrupted him. "I think that . . . there had been more than one."

She was immediately ushered to the bed, Rhaego given some sort of object to play with on the floor. After being gently prodded and examined, he confirmed her suspicions.

"You are past the dangerous time for another miscarriage, Your Grace. If you are still pregnant at the end of 6 moons' time, I will turn in my chain." He smiled at her gently. "Does your Khal know?"

She looked down at Rhaego playing on the floor. "He's not come back yet," she whispered, fighting her tears. His absence stabbed her heart no gentler than a knife. "I haven't seen him since before the dragons hatched."

"Shall I send a rider, Your Grace?" he asked, his usually soft voice going even softer still, to almost a whisper.

She sighed. "If a rider can find him, I would be most happy to have him home," she answered. "But only when he's ready to be here with me."

He helped her to her feet and lifted Rhaego back to her arms. "Your Grace," he said, bidding her goodbye as she left, bowing slightly.

. . . . .

Drogo wandered into the village far below Dragonstone in search of his men after spending four nights on the icy cliff. Most were in the village, drinking and showing the villagers how to gamble on horses. He made his way to one of the smaller taverns, not sure if he was looking for comradeship or drink. He ended up finding both, solace in the form of strongwine and a group of young riders who seemed stunned to find the Khal in their presence.

He sat and stared at the fire for a while, unmoving except to take deep drinks of the wine before him. _Fire._ It had made his family, this element that he once feared. Grass fires could burn and destroy entire khalasars in a single day. Fire had restored his wife at one time, nearly killing her the next. Fire had more magic in it than he thought. Or maybe his wife's magic blood was spent with just the one fire.

A drunk blood rider boldly sat himself down next to Drogo. "My Khal, what takes you so far away from our Khaleesi, may her beauty burn brightly for all to see?"

Drogo slowly turned to the young man, raised his arm to knock him off his perch, but restrained himself. "What makes you ask this of your Khal?" he demanded gruffly.

"We hear Khaleesi is the most beautiful of all women, but she is very sick. And that she has hatched dragons in her mighty stone house," the young man said, rocking drunkenly on his seat.

"She is," he affirmed, his tone getting darker and more angry. "She has." He regretted restraining himself.

Whatever else the young man was about to say was cut off as a loud group of rowdy young men came through the door, calling for wine and women. Drogo returned to his own drink, ignoring the noise around him, glad to escape the talk. _Daenerys._

He stayed lost in his thoughts of his wife into the long hours of night. Her smile as she rode her silver mare for the first time, her sweet first kiss to his mouth, how her silky soft skin had tanned as they rode to Vaes Dothrak, and how _beautiful_ she had been as Rhaego grew within her. As the fire burned down, the red coals seemed to be looking back at him, their faces sorrowful and accusing. He quickly averted his gaze, first down to his empty cup, but then to the room around him.

Drunken men were sprawled around him, but it was the woman with a young Westerosi man that held his gaze. They were kissing quietly in the corner, the woman nude in his lap. He watched with frank curiosity, kissing rare among the Dothraki. Sure, he kissed his Daenerys, long and passionately, but only because she had taught him how. What shocked him most was when, after a few moments of this, the young man lifted the woman up onto the bar and began kissing her _there_, at the source of her pleasure. _What the fuck is this?_ He thought to himself, intrigued with this entirely new concept, fascinated with the reactions of both man and woman. It looked and sounded just as pleasurable as fucking. His watching went unnoticed as the man brought her back down and penetrated her, riding her to both their satisfactions, and almost immediately falling into a drunken sleep on the floor of the tavern.

Drogo quietly set his cup down on the bar and made his way outside, the chill night air making the stars seem brighter. He looked up at them for a long time, praying to the Great Stallion that his Daenerys was going to live. He went to his red stallion and was tightening the girth on him when a rider came down the narrow alleyway toward him. The rider was breathing as hard as his mount, but Drogo could understand his Westerosi words, "Khaleesi needs her Khal," he said, panting. "There is happiness in Dragonstone."

Drogo immediately mounted, and nodded to the spent rider. "I return tonight," he said, and kicked his red stallion to a hard run.

. . . . . .

Dany took Rhaego back to the bedchamber she shared with Drogo that evening, hoping that somehow he was already there and waiting for her. The room was empty and disappointment blurred her vision for a few moments. She tended the fire in the hearth, and prepared herself for bed. She tucked Rhaego in next to her and gave him her breast, not wanting to sleep alone.

The fire had burned low when she awoke in the night, and she could just barely make out Drogo's silhouette near it, staring at the red coals. Her breath caught in her throat, thinking it was a dream, but it was just enough for him to hear and turn to face her. "Is it true? You're all right?" he whispered, coming to her, touching her face gently.

"I'm fine. I'm still a little sick, but I'm fine. Your baby is growing in me, Drogo. We're both going to be fine," she babbled, her hands cupping his cheeks before laying her head on his shoulder, insanely grateful to see him, ignoring the tears of relief coursing down her face.

"You lost the baby, Daenerys," he whispered, bewildered, looking at her as though she'd gone mad.

"I did lose one. Not the other," she answered him quietly. "There were two growing in me, but only one could withstand the flames. Only one had the resistance to fire."

He reached out for Rhaego, and tucked his son into his own bed before sliding Dany over to make room for himself. He buried his face in her neck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his face before resting her chin on the top of his head. She held him quietly for what seemed like hours before he moved to look her in the eyes. "I have shamed myself and hurt you," he whispered. "I should not have left you. It won't happen again."

She bit her lip and held back her tears, nodding, overwhelmed in knowing that as far as the Dothraki went, this was an apology. Even more so to hear her husband admit that he did something wrong. He was Khal. He made no mistakes. She paused a long moment before asking, "Why did you leave?"

He sighed. "The world is bigger than I knew it to be, my wife. For the first time, it did not matter that I am Khal."

She absorbed his words quietly, then clutched him close to her again, letting him press his face into her neck once more as she held him. "I am yours," she said simply, choosing her words carefully. "And you are mine."

"Even now?" he asked, hoping she could hear the pain and regret in his voice and understand.

"More so today than yesterday," she promised, her arms around his neck tightening, running her fingers over his scalp and making him shiver.

He suddenly knew another truth. He did not deserve this beautiful woman, this queen who was his wife, the Moon of his life. She was everything, and he let himself admit it. He let his hands wander over her silky soft skin, down her back and then around her sides to her belly. He placed his palm over her tenderly, attempting to feel his child within her.

Dany smiled softly in the darkness, and guided his hand to their growing baby, barely a sign that it was there. "Three moons now, my husband."

"Your belly is smaller now than you were with Rhaego at this time," he whispered, bringing his other hand down to measure her belly in his palms. "You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes," she whispered, and kissed him. "But I'm afraid you will have to wait for the next one if you want another son, my Khal. This one is female."

He pulled back and looked at her for a long moment. "You are sure?" he asked.

"As sure as I was that Rhaego was a boy," she said. "And I don't care what the tradition is, this daughter is welcome and will be treasured as we do our son," she said firmly, making him look her in the eyes in the dim light.

"If she has an ounce of your strength and beauty in her, then I welcome her, too," he vowed, and meant it. "Though, I hear it is better for a father's sleep if he has ugly daughters."

She smiled at him then, a genuine, full fledged smile that filled her eyes and soul. "Though my parents wanted a daughter, neither lived to place their sight on me," she whispered.

"Your father would have gone mad with lack of sleep alone," he teased gently. "OW!" he yelped as she pinched him.

"You've ruined the moment by being an ass," she sighed, smiling in the darkness.

* * *

See? Trust me, ok? I want all things happy for them, but sometimes reality has to happen, too.


	17. Chapter 17

Some of my skills at diplomacy may be lacking. But this is pretty much how I would have handled most of this situation if I were Dany.

* * *

Rumors of the hatching dragons had spread. The harbor of Dragonstone began to see more trade ships and the village down below became more prosperous in a very short amount of time, more so than in fifteen years under Stannis Baratheon. Daenerys accepted more and more lords to her stronghold as they began to come forward to prove their fealty to the last of the Targaryens. Ravens came with messages, which were received by Maester Pylos and then passed on to her as needed. Knights estranged and cast out by the dead king's bastard were coming to her and sitting at her table, most notably Ser Barristan Selmy, who had served her father before serving the Usurper. Khal Drogo was impressed with these knights, his only knowledge of these men coming from his association with Jorah the Andal. He realized that Jorah was a poor example of a knight, and spent many long hours drinking with these men, learning their ways and the Common Tongue.

Tensions were rising in King's Landing, it was said. The Baratheon bastard was becoming afraid of the growing Targaryen power. The Lannister Queen Regent was afraid, Dany's self appointed counselors told her. Dany became concerned that there would soon be a knife in the dark, so she began to bring the dragons directly into her court, letting them perch on her ancestral high seat as they had done generations before, for all to see. They were growing, Drogon especially, and they were immensely affectionate to her and Rhaego. Khal Drogo they tolerated, even perched on him when he would allow it, but they seemed to prefer Rhaego to play with and follow.

As he grew and began to walk, Rhaego preferred more and more to sleep with the dragons, now the size of large ravens from their hatchling size of small sparrows. They welcomed their brother into their nest, curling around him and on top of him, little squeaks and purrs as they settled around him. He needed no blanket in the dragon's keep where he napped with them during the day, but at night he had three brothers who watched over his cozy slumber in the large room he shared with his parents.

Her court grew by many every month, as did the baby within her. She was becoming very active and Dany's excitement grew with her. She was convinced she was carrying a girl this time. Maester Pylos had offered his skills as the castle's healer to attend her at the birth, but Dany had gracefully declined, not comfortable with the idea of a man present, even Drogo at this point, sending instead for her Dothraki midwife, Athi. Her familiar and happy face in the palatial bedroom was welcome, indeed. Dany felt less anxious with her staying just down the hallway from her and Drogo, sharing a room with Irri for a time.

Drogo seemed happier to be surrounded by battle hardened men, both his own and the knights of Westeros. He no longer made plans to return to Vaes Dothrak before the needed trip when Rhaego turned four. But he was still restless, all this staying in one place was not the Dothraki way, she knew, and it put a strain between them. He still came to her at night and slept next to her and held her, but spent most of his waking hours with the horses or teaching the knights how to wield Dothraki weapons as he learned how to use theirs. She felt lonely without him to talk to. There were whole days before they would speak, and even then the playing seemed to be done. She covered up her hurt by concentrating on her dragons and her fast growing son during the day when she was not holding court and correspondence to the other high lords of Westeros. At night, she lay next to him and cried quietly when he was home, turning away from him lest he hear her.

Dany examined her nude body in front of her large mirror one morning, trying to find fault, something, _anything_ that would turn him away from her. True, she was pregnant and her belly was growing, but she thought she looked better than she did while pregnant with Rhaego. Her arms and legs were still toned and slim, her breasts and ass seemed fine, her hair longer than it had ever been in her life, twisted into intricate braids and pulled up out of Rhaego's grasp. She remembered when her pregnant body made him near insatiable for her. _It's because she's a girl,_ she thought. The thought alone made her lip quiver and hot tears prick her eyes. _He do__esn't want her, nor am I fit for him until after she is born. _She knew that Dothraki tradition was clear on this matter. If the mother knew her child to be female, she would be unfit for mounting until the child was born lest the father be cursed to only have daughters thereafter.

She shook off the traitorous thoughts. Drogo loved her. He declared himself devoted to her and his unborn daughter. Her thoughts were betraying him and her own heart of what she knew was true. His preoccupation _must_ be for good reason, he wouldn't desert her now, would he? She had woken up so alone and grief stricken from the miscarriage, wanting to turn to him for comfort, and he had been already a day gone, so maybe she was still carrying hurt from months before, she wondered.

She quickly threw on a long sleeved dress and made her way to her council chamber. Within that room, she was advised and taught how to rule her stronghold and to choose who she favored. "Your Grace, a raven from the Wall has arrived, begging for more men," the maester greeted her when she entered. "It appears that with the coming of winter, the wildlings are attempting to break through the Wall and into the lands south of it."

"What are the wildlings running from?" she asked thoughtfully after a moment.

"They want to invade us and take over our lands, Khaleesi," a young lord answered. She didn't know his name or which House he had emerged from.

"What of the strength of Winterfell, and The Gift?" she asked.

"Your Grace, Winterfell has fallen, and The Gift is overrun with wildlings."

"Where are the Starks who hold Winterfell, our ancient allies?" she asked, watching her lords faces all exchange looks. She sighed. "Yes, I know my father burned Lord Stark's father and brother. I _know._ I wish that I had been alive to see that not done."

"Lord Stark was beheaded at the command of the Usurper's bastard, Your Grace. Robb, his oldest son, is mounting an army to fight the Lannisters, he has been named King of the North. Bran and Rickon were lost when Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell. Sansa Stark, Eddard's eldest daughter, is being held hostage in King's Landing, a toy to be tortured by Joffrey, and Arya is lost to us."

"Find a way to get Sansa Stark away from the Lannisters, Ser Barristan. I want her here in safety. Lord Stark spoke for me in the Usurper's court, denouncing the council and the king for wanting to kill me. I owe him a debt that can never be repaid, and I will protect his daughter. Find out what you can about Arya. Send a _trusted_ man to Robb Stark's camp. I will ally the Targaryen house with the Starks, as we have done in the past, if he will accept our help," she decided. "We can rule Westeros together. I will need my northern allies."

"Yes, Your Grace." He bowed out of the room.

"Maester Pylos, go to the village jail and send the murderers and rapists north. See that the Wall also receives iron, leather and steel from our holds to arm their new brothers," she decided, and then gave her attention to him as he held a letter in his hands. He did not look pleased.

"Your Grace, the Lannisters have sent an envoy to see you. We expect them to arrive in a few weeks' time."

"Finally! Yet the day they put anchor on our shore is the day I will burn their ships," she retorted vehemently. "I will not have them on my land or in my home."

"Your Grace, they hold Sansa Stark at this time. You may well want to speak to them," he said hesitantly. "Find a weakness, perhaps?"

"They're holding the Targaryen throne. It is Rhaego's. My weakness is wanting them dead for all their rapes and murders, and so let them bleed their gold until they drown."

"At least accept them into the castle, Your Grace. Ignore them, put them off if you must, but until we are allied with the Starks, our position here is not so tenuous that we can strike out at the most powerful family," he replied, his voice stronger and more adamant than she'd ever heard.

"Fine, I will allow the Usurper's bastard's envoys into the home of the very family they desecrated and murdered. I will play hostess to murderers of infants. Is that what you require of me?" she answered, using all of her effort and strength to not sound like a petulant child. Maester Pylos bowed low and left her to an empty counsel chamber.

She eyed the maester's back as he left, and sighed heavily as she sat down, propping her forehead up with one hand. Her head ached, her back ached, and she had no appetite for the breakfast in front of her. She wanted Drogo to hold her and show her that he loved her. She wanted to hold Rhaego and kiss him, but he was off playing with his brothers and Irri. Mostly, she realized with tears in her eyes, mostly she wanted to go _home_. Home to Vaes Dothrak. Home where her husband loved her and wanted her. Home where the world was smaller and made more sense. She hated the intrigue and half promises of every other lord of the land, whatever holding or farm wanting her attention. She would give anything to have nothing but a horse under her and the sun on her back as she rode through an endless green grass sea.

She made her way back upstairs to lie down, her headache moving down her spine to her legs. She lay down on her bed to nap for a bit, her yet unnamed daughter rolling over and kicking her side. Rolling over herself to Drogo's side of the bed, she gathered one of his pillows and pressed it close to her face, inhaling his scent and let the tears slowly roll down her cheeks onto the pillow.

She woke several hours later, disoriented and hungry, so she made her way down to the large dining hall, where a large lunch was being served for court and guests alike. Food was immediately brought to her, and as she sat, small hands began patting her leg from under the table. Smiling, she peeked underneath, and Rhaego's small smiling face stared back up at her, Irri not far behind him, trying to get him back to his seat for his meal.

She plucked her small son from under the table and settled him in her lap and began feeding him from her plate. "You are as hungry as I am," she whispered to him, kissing his cheek. He nodded slowly, and grinned at her, so very happy to see his mother.

She realized it had been several days since he had last wanted her breast. His first nameday had already come and gone, traditional gifts of a hunting knife and his first leather tie in his unruly locks had been given, her little boy no longer a baby as Drogo had tied his hair for the first time.

Rhaego sat in her lap happily as he finished off her plate. He patted her face and grinned as he gently tugged at one of her long braids. "Mama," he said, laying his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her neck with a sigh of contentment.

"Yes, I'm here," she whispered to him, kissing him on the face. She stroked his hair softly, gently toying with his tie. _Where has my baby gone?_ she wondered, equally excited and dreading the voyage back to Vaes Dothrak. She had asked Drogo about the training the boys would go through, but he was not forthcoming with answers. She knew then, she _knew_, that she didn't want to press the matter, and that it wasn't going to be easy or happy for her son. "Strong and healthy sons lived to see the end of their training," was the only thing Drogo would say on the subject.

Dany carried Rhaego up to their room to play. She knew she had several appointments with important people, most of whom were likely waiting for her at that moment, but she couldn't bring herself to care about anything but her little boy. She felt guilty that she may have been not spending as much time with him as she could have. They played until he fell asleep, his watchful companion and nursemaid Irri never far away as he slept. Dany tucked him in his bed and kissed him on his warm forehead before making her way back down to the Hall for more work of her own.

* * *

NOW, REMEMBER . . . this is only Dany's point of view! We haven't heard Drogo's side of things yet, so before you get all bunched up and upset with him, hear what HE has to say, too. Again, trust me?


	18. Chapter 18

Here we are for a Drogo POV. A bit more broody than I'd like, but he's always been in charge of his own stuff, and he's got an identity crisis going on in that brain of his. I thought it best to not argue with the man, and let his story unfold as he permitted.

* * *

Khal Drogo sat in front of the fire, his ass going to sleep on the uncomfortable rock he'd chosen as his seat. _Motherfucking cold ass rock_, he grumbled to himself. It did nothing to distract him from his thoughts, though he was surrounded by men of both Westeros and his own khalasar in the cold night. Around him, men drank and feasted in front of the fires, just like they had on the Dothraki Sea, the vast grasslands spreading out as far as a man could see. Here, edged by the great cold sea, rocks made the waves thunder on the shores; the land was hard and cold, but had it's own frightening beauty, too.

The Khal had come to the realization that life was not so simply lived here as it had been in Essos. In Essos, strength and numbers provided everything he had needed to rule. His tools of command were his fists and arakh, his bow and horse, and nothing else was necessary. On Dragonstone, his life had been upended in such a way he knew he had to change his ways. Even some of the lowliest of squires, barely old enough to know the feel of a woman, had more knowledge of the world than he. It both aggravated him and roused his curiosity.

He turned his arakh over and over in his hands, watching the blade twirl with every roll of the grip, his mind focused on one thing. _Daenerys._ After she had miscarried and _damn near fucking died,_ his mind reminded him, he realized that he must not simply rely on being Khal. He had to live it as he had in Essos, his actions every day defining himself and the world around him. It was his actions as a man that had possibly saved his wife's life, not his title. Rhaego must have a father who could breach both worlds to be his example, and Daenerys must have a husband equal to her task of regaining Rhaego's throne and her place as Mother of Dragons. More was required of him than in Vaes Dothrak. He could not afford to sit back and be comfortable here.

As he pondered his situation, an unfamiliar weight descended on his shoulders as he realized how much he needed to change within himself. He would start by learning the Common Tongue, he decided. He knew a few words, enough to grasp a very focused conversation, and he knew that if he had applied himself more when Dany had graced him with lessons, he would have been a lot more advanced than he was. _Worthless to kick your own ass for it now, dumb shit, _he thought. _She had been trying to help you figure this fucking mess out earlier. Not her f__ault you were too arrogant to really listen and pay attention._

His attention was briefly brought back to the fire as a knight drew his blade, watching as a young blood rider began sparring with the man with an arakh, playfully exchanging moves and styles as they parried. He watched for a few minutes, noticing the difference between weapons more and more. _Might not be a bad idea to learn how to use one of those fuckers, too,_ he admitted. He thought about Rhaego, letting his boy come to the forefront of his mind. He thought of Rhaego constantly, his beautiful and growing boy always in the back of his mind, the driving force behind his every action. Rhaego would need to learn to use one of these blades, too, when he finished training at thirteen.

Drogo began to wonder if taking Rhaego back to Vaes Dothrak would be the best thing for him. He would learn the Dothraki ways and how to be a warrior for certain, but he would need more than that. Much more. He would need to know all the ways of Westeros, like Drogo had to learn the ways of all the peoples he had conquered and assimilated into his khalasar. Who wouldn't eat which meat, which evenings were sacred, and so on. It was necessary to keep order within. Rhaego may do better by learning his lessons here, in Dragonstone, with some battle hardened men of the khalasar in addition to the things he must learn of the men of Westeros. He would need a vast many more lessons pounded into his young skull than Drogo had needed as a young boy, and the younger he could learn them, the better it would be for him.

Daenerys would be happier, too, he knew. His gut had sunk to his knees when he felt her tears about Rhaego's training. He didn't just see them, he _felt _them in the depths of his chest like nothing he'd ever felt before. He kept her questions at bay as best he could, not wanting her to know how difficult or cruel the Dothraki training could be. It was better to keep it from her, this other world of men that would tear her apart if she had to send her son into it. She was no Dothraki mother; she did not hold back her love from Rhaego, did not see rearing children as simply a biological imperative. He was impressed and pleased with how fiercely she already loved the baby girl child growing within her. _My daughter,_ he thought proudly. _A princess of Dragonstone. _He suddenly recalled his own mother sighing in disappointment with his small sister, only too glad to hand her over to the care of another family so she could continue to have sons for Khal Bharbo. She hadn't been part of his life for more than a few days before she was gone, but Drogo could remember he felt sadness when she was taken away, wrapped in the blanket of a stranger's family. A memory he thought he'd long forgotten and he wasn't sure what to do with it now. He thought long and hard before concluding that he would give his own girl child the love that his unnamed little sister should have received from their parents.

He held out his empty horn, a passing girl filled it immediately, and he drank it down as fast as it had been filled. Again. Yet again. He held the fourth in his hands for a few minutes, feeling the drink already working through his body. He drank slowly, purposely ignoring the increasing rowdiness around him. He wanted Daenerys. He wanted her to be by his side, laughing and drinking with him, pressing her warm skin against his as she had done before they'd gotten pregnant with Rhaego. He would have that again, but until that night came, he had a lot of work to do.

Learning a new language wasn't going to be easy. Khals had interpreters so they didn't have to speak anything but Dothraki. A convenience for warlords and kings. New weaponry wouldn't be too difficult, a blade was a blade, an arrow was an arrow. The ways of thinking would take the most work. He was now in a world where women could have a say in their destinies, where children could not be sold or given away by their parents if they were unsatisfactory. The houses here were made of stone, not hides and tents, standing the test of time and permanence. All things to think about while he froze his ass off in the frigid night air, so far away from his wife and bed, not knowing when he would be worthy of being there again.

* * *

I'm sorry that it's short, but that's all he was willing to give up for now. He has a lot to think about, but to me, his heart is definitely in the right place.


	19. Chapter 19

It's short, because I broke this particular chapter up into three parts. It was much too long to keep as one chapter. I'm sure I'm the only one who minds, but I have Dany collaborating with me and she says, "It's better in three parts." And well . . . we do what she says around here ;)

* * *

Dany paced the room in the dark, the baby more active than she could manage lying down. It took some hours before she was even tired, but when she did lay down, she couldn't sleep. She laid in bed and thought of names for her baby girl, but realized the futility of her efforts. Dothraki girls weren't named until they reached two years of age. Dany wanted to fight that tradition. Her daughter was only _half_ Dothraki, after all, and Targaryens valued their daughters as much as their sons. She decided she would find her baby a truly Targaryen name, and if Drogo didn't like it, it was his own fault for not being with her to help make this important decision.

She was trying to ignore the persistent aching in her low back. She propped pillows around herself and shifted around in the large and normally comfortable bed. Nothing seemed to help, so she got up and stretched and started walking around the room. _Maybe she has her foot or head pushing against me,_ she thought, and began pressing on her sides to get her little one to shift position. A foot kicked up at her, so Dany knew she was head down and not caught on her back somewhere. Still, the ache persisted, more strongly than when she was laying down, so she shifted on her feet for a few minutes to try and relieve the pressure.

By mid morning, she decided to ignore the constant ache, and went down to her Hall. She managed to sit and receive a few visitors and listen to a few issues from within her stronghold before rising in her discomfort and stretching again. She suddenly saw Drogo sitting on the far end of the Hall with a group of rowdy Dothraki and knights, the first she'd seen of him in weeks. Her heart leapt into her throat as he watched her, his face intense and unsmiling. She locked eyes with him and he rose, his steps fast and long to reach her side.

"You're in pain," he stated, his Common Tongue perfect, startling her. He took her arm gently. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm softly.

"No, not pain. Just uncomfortable," she answered, when her surprise faded. _Oh, how I have missed him._ His beard tickled her palm with softness.

"Come, upstairs so you can rest," he insisted, knowing her better than herself at the moment.

He waved his arm and dismissed the waiting group, and ushered her up the steps, away from the grumbles and complaints of the dispersing group.

"Where have you been, my Sun and Stars?" she asked softly in Dothraki, when he shut the door behind him. She fought to keep the tears from welling in her eyes.

"Everywhere. Learning everything I can," he answered her truthfully, replying in the Common Tongue. "This world is new and big. I must know it all to help you and Rhaego. My eyes have seen much these few months, seen everything but you, it seems." He gestured to her large baby belly, and then pulled her close. "You look beautiful, my wife."

Tears trailed down her face, and she was unable to stop them. He held her as she cried, stroking her hair and whispering to her as sobs wracked her body. He began kissing her, cupping her face tenderly as he did, making her cry harder. He gave up with a chuckle and kissed her once more on the forehead.

"I thought you didn't want me anymore," she sobbed, slapping him on the chest. She liked the loud smack it made as she connected with her target, it satisfied a small childish part of her. "You made me feel . . . "

He caught her hand and pressed it tightly to his chest, over his heart. "Shhh, never. I am yours and you are mine. A good husband is one who works to make his family better. You and Rhaego needed more from me than what I was, and I would be a shit husband if I didn't look to provide you both with what you need." Kissing her, he shushed her soothingly and guided her to the bed. It looked like a great place to hold his wife, especially if he could get her naked. He had missed her like a lost limb, and _fuck_, she looked gorgeous, all round and pink and sweet as spiceflower blossoms in the morning dew.

She pulled back from him. "Where did you learn to speak the Common Tongue, Drogo?" she whispered as she kissed his lips softly. She refused to lash out at him the way a large part of her wanted to, to scream and wail at him about how a shit husband would do exactly as he had done; leave his wife to wonder what she had done wrong, left for weeks and weeks while pregnant and sick with grief. She realized that putting voice to those words would only bring hurt, not healing, and she desperately wanted the healing. She knew the poison of words spoken in anger and hurt, and it had no room in their marriage. She refused to allow it room.

He paused before kissing her gently on the neck. "I opened my ears and my stubborn mind, and it just started making sense. A lot of things started to make sense." He held her tightly against him, feeling his baby girl kick at his side at the pressure. He eased his hold slightly. "Would Maester Pylos have interest in giving a young boy lessons . . . what is the word . . . mentoring?"

She pulled back and gave him an incredulous look. "Mentors and maesters? Is that what you've been doing all this time?" she huffed. _Of all the fucking ridiculous . . . _

"Well, no," he admitted hesitantly before continuing. "But Rhaego will need so much more than Dothraki training, training in life that is not part of the Dothraki way," he pointed out, wary of her tone. She was angry and he knew she had the right to be so, but he was also grateful that she was holding it in check to hear him out. Wise beyond her young years, he realized. "He needs _you_, and he needs a father who can lead Westeros, too."

Stunned, she kept silent as she processed what he was telling her. "So . . ." she began slowly. "You're forgoing sacred tradition and not sending Rhaego back to Vaes Dothrak?" This was unprecedented. Unheard of. A Khal _not_ sending his son to learn from the masters in Vaes Dothrak?

"He needs to know more than how to use an arakh and his fists, Daenerys. _I_ can teach him that. Fuck, old man _Cohollo_ can teach him that. The boys camp cannot teach Rhaego anything about the kingdoms he will rule one day. He needs to stay here and learn," Drogo answered her, taking her hands and trying to get her to understand. "I've spent weeks thinking about this. It really is the best thing for him. Think, he gets out of the camp at thirteen . . . and then has to start learning things about Westeros that he should already know at five. The younger he can start, the better and easier it will be for him to learn it all."

Dany nodded, her heart singing in relief as she smiled at him. "Yes."

He chuckled. "I didn't think I would have trouble convincing you of that," he whispered in her ear. "Nor of how much I love you." He nuzzled her neck and inhaled her sweet scent.

Her heart stopped in her chest before letting out a sickening _ thump_. She pulled back to look him in the face. "You . . . you love me? You learned these words how?" she whispered, barely able to breathe.

"Always felt it, just needed the words to say it, Moon of my Life. I spent an hour with a tavern man, talking and practicing the Common Tongue, telling him about you. He taught me the words, saying he knew what I was describing, he felt the same about a girl once." He shrugged. "Lots of drink helps."

"I love you, my husband. My Drogo," she whispered, tears in her eyes. She smiled then, a smile that went all the way up to her eyes, her radiant, beautiful eyes. He brushed a loose curl from her face and kissed her, kissed her cheeks and her lightly freckled nose, kissed her forehead and her sweet lips. She groaned softly, and encouraged, he kissed her deeply.

Dany pushed against his chest, effectively breaking his kiss. "I need up," she moaned.

He knelt up on the bed, letting her roll onto her side. "You're all right?" he asked, worried.

"Pain, in my back. Your daughter is making life difficult for me today. It hurts to lie on my back," she answered, holding out a hand for him to pull her up. She sat up with his help, and then stood, stretching her sides and back as best she could.

_Fuck, she's gorgeous, _he thought. He watched her walk around the room for a minute, loving how she looked, graceful despite the growing baby within. Drogo sat back on the bed for a moment, just watching, before he recognized the way she was moving. She had done the same when she was in labor with Rhaego, rocking back and forth on her feet much like she was doing in the Hall, and now she had started doing it again.

"How long has your back been hurting you?" he asked conversationally, trying to keep from alarming her.

"Last night, I think. She was really kicking and rolling, I think she's just pushing on a spot in there that's making the whole thing hurt. I'm sure if I just keep walking around, she'll move over or something," Dany replied, quickening her pace slightly.

He watched her walk for awhile longer. She was unconsciously following an unmarked path, a wide square around the huge hearth rug. "We should send someone for the midwife to check on you, Daenerys. I think we need to prepare for a baby soon."

* * *

Uh oh . . . well, they talked some. Good thing he came back when he did, right? Let me know if I missed anything? I keep thinking I have.


	20. Chapter 20

It was the best possible spot to break it up, I swear it was.

* * *

"What? No! It's too soon for her to be born, Drogo. I have weeks left!" she protested. "It's just one pain, it's not like the squeezing and pulling of birthing at all!"

"Even still," he insisted gently, and was out the door and down the long corridor before she could continue to protest, and back again with Athi and Irri quickly.

"Will you tell him he's being ridiculous?" she asked them, pacing and irritated. "There's no way I'm in labor, she's just . . . she's just pushing against me somewhere in there and making my back hurt."

Her kind and gentle midwife Athi simply came up to her and placed her hands on Dany's belly, quietly holding her for a moment. Panic set in as Dany realized the possiblity. "No, no, no, no, no! It's too soon! She can't be born yet. She can't!" She started crying all over again.

"Shhh now, Khaleesi," Irri soothed, holding her arms tenderly to get her to calm herself.

"Where is Rhaego?" Daenerys whispered to her, suddenly worried that he was alone if Irri was there with her.

"He naps with the dragons, Khaleesi. They were playing all morning, running and shrieking in the keep. I will go and stay with him now if you wish it," she answered immediately, smiling in reassurance.

Dany nodded in the quiet, and Irri slipped out the door, leaving just the midwife and Drogo. Her back pain intensified, a constant pressure, and she gasped in a deep breath and moaned out. Her midwife let her go so she could walk it off. "My Khaleesi, we need to prepare for your daughter. She is coming today. I need the maester to supply his room for us. She is going to need help."

"No," Dany said, her assertion subdued. "If I am having her today, she will be born here in my room. I don't want to be in that room where I woke up alone after her twin was . . . gone."

Drogo felt a flash of ache in his chest. She had woken up utterly alone, without him to comfort her. He had been nursing his own pain on the edge of a freezing cliff, far away from her. He was a fucking shit husband, despite all his efforts. And yet, she had forgiven him, forgiveness that he didn't deserve, but hoped to live a long enough lifetime to earn.

"As you say, Khaleesi. I will be back as soon as I have all we need, including the good maester."

She groaned out at that, but kept pacing as Athi stepped out of the room. "You. Out." She demanded, pointing in Drogo's general direction but not looking at him as she kept pacing.

He chuckled at her admiringly. "You're fierce today," he joked. "But I'm staying here."

"The fuck you are," she growled before stopping to catch her breath.

"The fuck I'm not," he countered, his smile gone as he suddenly became serious. "I missed Rhaego's birth, Daenerys. I'm not making that mistake again."

She didn't know whether to cry or hit him or kiss him, so she did all three. He kept his laugh to himself as he reached down and began to rub her low back as she stepped into his embrace, remembering how much she had enjoyed him doing that for her the last time she had been so big. It seemed to pacify her some, because she sighed and rested her cheek against his bare chest. Her words completely floored him when she began to speak, her voice quiet. "I didn't know you wanted to be there for Rhaego's birth," she whispered. "I thought you wanted the tradition and your celebration, or I would have made you stay. I wanted you to stay."

"I waited outside the whole time," he whispered, kissing her lips. "I couldn't bring myself to leave you."

"Drogo," she whimpered, pressing her face into his chest as he rubbed her back. "I'm scared."

"You've done this before," he comforted, using his thumbs to press down _hard_ on her low back before tracing his hands back up to her shoulders. He didn't think admitting his own fear would be of any help to her, so he kept quiet and calm for her.

"She's too soon, she might be too small to live," she choked out, her sobs coming as fast and hard as her pain.

"If she has any of you in her, she's going to be just fine. Tiny, but tough," he tried to joke, and bent down to kiss the back of her head. "You know, this is not what I imagined would be happening when I asked you to come upstairs with me. I had a plan. OW!" he yelped as she pinched him on his side.

"This is not the time for your jesting, as much as I . . . . oh, ow . . . as much as I missed it," she panted out. "Oh fuck, Drogo . . . " she moaned out his name, gripping his thighs with sweaty hands. "Harder, rub harder," she begged.

He managed to settle her down onto her knees as he knelt in front of her on the floor, her head pressing into his chest as he rubbed her back. He held her against him as best he could, trying to keep her calm and comforted. He had no idea what he was going to do other than help her, but he sure wished someone could tell him what to do. Until then, he would rub her back and hope he was helping.

She suddenly felt another pair of hands on her hips, smaller and softer, taking over Drogo's for a moment before his returned and the hem of her dress was lifted. She whimpered quietly as she felt a gentle touch examining her, but pressed her face harder into her husband.

"Daenerys, your baby is coming soon. She will only be a few pushes, and then in your arms," her midwife said quietly. "You're doing fine, let's get this dress off so you're ready to hold her, yes?"

Dany nodded, keeping her head tucked into her husband's chest, but obediently helping him strip off her clothing. "You feel so warm to me," he observed, stroking her back gently. "You warm enough?"

She nodded, her head pressed so tightly to him that he was sure she was going to bruise them both.

"Do you want to keep walking for a few minutes?" her midwife asked.

Dany shook her head, as comfortable as she could imagine being right then, her hands on Drogo's thighs and her knees pressing onto the floor, her forehead butting into Drogo's broad chest. A quick adjustment had her kneeling on a soft blanket, a welcome relief from the hard floor as she rocked back and forth.

"Now, if you push, you must go gently, Daenerys. We don't want to rush her now, it may do more harm than good."

"I need to . . . ahhh, fuck . . . I need to turn over," she cried out. "I don't know why."

Drogo's strong arms had her maneuvered onto her back and leaning back into his embrace in mere moments, holding her upright. The pain in her back skyrocketed, almost blinding her. She gripped his arms with shaking fingers, and gave a small push, testing her strength but unable to bear the pain in her back.

"Oh, I can feel her," she moaned out. "So fast, happening so fast. I need . . . back on my knees." A rush of warmth ran down her legs, but before she could consider it, she realized her daughter was already descending without much effort from her.

Without a word, Drogo had her turned over, back the way she was. She braced her forehead on his chest again, freeing up one hand to reach down to feel the baby descend as she pushed, forcing herself to only push half as hard as she really wanted to. Easily, the baby moved lower, and she could feel the top of her head.

"She has her mother's hair," Athi announced happily, exchanging a worried glance with Drogo before gently moving Dany's hand away for a moment to touch the baby's scalp. _So, I'm not the only one afraid, _he realized. "Daenerys, she has a strong pulse, I can feel it on her little head, here," and she guided her hand back so she could feel it, too.

Dany sobbed in relief. "She's alive, Drogo, she's alive," she cried, and then let her body take over. All she could think about was the baby was still alive and was surviving the birth. Dany sunk so far within herself that it seemed mere moments before she heard the baby cry, the soft mewling of a newborn kitten compared to the lusty cries her older brother had used to announce his coming to the world. Drogo helped her turn over again and the tiny crying baby was immediately placed on her chest, a warmed blanket brought up and over them quickly. "Keep her covered for a few minutes, Your Grace," the maester said calmly. "There's plenty of time to look at her after we get her to hold her own heat."

Drogo hadn't said a word yet, having caught a glimpse of how small his daughter really was. He could possibly hold her in his cupped palms, and he knew her little head could be cradled in just one of his wife's hands. Dany looked up at him and he smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "My Sun and Stars," she whispered to him.

"She's so very small, my little Moon," he murmured, more than a little worried as he stroked her hair. He did not want to perform his fatherly duty and leave this tiny baby out in the grass after her death. More than that, he didn't want to think what that would do to his Daenerys. It would destroy her. He could feel her shivering under the blankets against his legs, though her skin felt warm. _Not warm enough for her,_ he realized. "She needs closer to the fire, stoke that fire, Maester," he commanded. "We need a hot blaze in this room, or we need to move them to the dragon's keep _now."_

Heavy furs were placed on the floor in front of the great fireplace, and Dany was quickly moved close to the blaze, still bundled and holding her crying babe. Once settled and facing the fire, she gently lowered the blanket to get a peek at her baby girl.

She was a little over half the size her brother had been, making him seem gigantic at his birth. She had fine, silky soft white blonde hair on her head, and the tiniest hands Dany had ever seen. Dany kissed her softly on the top of her head, and the baby stopped crying, taking in a ragged, shallow breath. "Shhh, that's right, you're here, I've got you," she said softly, nuzzling her nose into that beautiful hair.

Daenerys held her baby quietly, the tiny girl struggling to breathe. She looked up helplessly to Athi and Drogo, not knowing if anything at all could be done to help her.

"See if you can get her to suck, Khaleesi, the sooner the better," Athi suggested, and cushions were brought to prop Dany up. After a few tries, she stepped in and helped, supporting the baby's head and tickling her upper lip to stimulate her. The baby began her kitten cries again, but could not manage to figure out her mouth and Dany's nipple.

"We'll try again in a few minutes," she said, and backed away so Dany could console the baby and calm her before trying again.

Drogo began stalking around the room silently, his anxiety growing with the minutes, but knew if Dany looked up at him that her stress would grow, too, and that would help nothing. His daughter's struggle to breathe was making him more anxious by the second, his hands shaking with his inability to do anything to help her.

After another failed attempt, Drogo realized that the only thing he could do was wait and be Daenerys' strength. His heart sank as the baby stopped crying and seemed exhausted, unable to do much more than lay on Dany and breathe raggedly for a few moments, her breathing uneven and shallow, her hands and feet returning to their purplish color they had been when her skin had first touched the air.

"Here, hold her for a moment," Dany whispered to Athi. "I'm going to try something."

After the baby was in position, Dany leaned over her carefully and squeezed her nipple. A bit of milk shot out and touched the baby's lips. "Good aim," Drogo teased, trying to make light of the situation.

"Quiet, you," Dany reprimanded him in a whisper. "Wait a minute now."

The room grew silent as the little baby girl licked her lips, but made no more movement to suckle when placed against her mother again. Dany felt her body resume her contractions, that dreaded back pain returning as she expelled her daughter's former living quarters. The midwife reached around the baby and wound gossamer thread around her whitening lifeline, then cut it quickly, but there was no thread that could staunch Daenerys' bleeding.

Maester Pylos handed a thick blanket to the midwife and they tucked it under Dany before covering her again. He exited the room quickly and returned with a bowl of hot tea. "Drink," he commanded. "It will help."

Dany drank quickly, making a face. "Bitter," she whispered, but drank it down. She set the empty bowl down near the hearth and returned her hand to her baby's tiny form on her chest.

"She's not warm enough," Drogo said quietly, grabbing the maester by the arm to get him to listen. "She's not warm enough to feed the baby. We MUST move her to the keep."

Maester Pylos agreed silently, watching Dany shiver despite being in front of a fully stoked and roaring fire in a fireplace larger than the king sized bed at the other end of the room. She was bleeding more than she had when she miscarried, and it was beginning to show in her face as he watched helplessly, her face pale and a faint purple line beginning to show around her mouth and eyes. "How do we move them without harming Her Grace?" he asked quietly. "She's not strong enough to walk it herself."

"Easily," Drogo answered, squatting next to Daenerys and scooping her up, tiny infant, blankets and all. "Drape that heavy fur over her. I'm carrying them."

Drogo kissed his wife softly on the forehead as she lolled back; too weak to even hold her head up any longer, and he began to walk as quickly as he could without jostling her. "Be there soon, my love," he whispered as he smoothly descended the steps toward the keep.

"I'm so cold," she whispered, shivering against him for a moment before going quiet.

"Keep talking to me, we're almost there," he pleaded.

"I want to name her now," Dany said softly. "I just . . ."

"She's going to be fine, and so are you," he promised her, cutting her off.

"Her name is Baeli, after Baelor the Blessed," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder as he broke into a trot down the long black hallway.

"Nice choice," he grunted, trying to not let her know his physical strain. His lungs burned and his arms were shaking with carrying her. _Fuck, I used to be able to carry her without this horseshit,_ he thought. _I'm going to seed on this fucking rock._

Drogo passed Irri and Rhaego as they were making their way upstairs. He shook his head and gestured with a nod for them to keep moving and not draw attention toward Dany. The last thing he needed right now was for Rhaego to start screaming for his mother and not be able to have her immediately.

He hit the door with his shoulder and was taken aback by the heat in the room. Drogon chittered and clacked his teeth at the sudden disturbance, but the other two stayed quiet, watching. Kicking it shut behind him, Drogo made his way to the pit and gently placed his wife and daughter inside it, the stones still singing from the birth of the dragons. He could feel his feet and legs burning as he backed away and climbed out. He moved to the other side of the room, near the open arches to the sea, and sat on the floor. He lifted his pant leg and grimaced at the blisters rising on his skin. The good maester would have his work cut out for him in a few hours.

* * *

Part three probably tomorrow or the day after. I'm trying to keep these as close together as I can. Incidentally, little Baeli is around the 4lb mark, half as big as Rhaego, just so you can get an idea of how small she really is. The 'i' on the end of her name seems to be the trend on Dothraki female names, so that's how I ended up with that. :)


	21. Chapter 21

Ok, part three. It's short. I kept tinkering with it, but my characters keep slapping my wrists, telling me to leave it alone. They like it, and my work here is done. Well, for this particular chapter, anyway.

* * *

"Daenerys?" he called out to her softly as she moved around under the now smoldering blanket. He grimaced at the pain in his feet and legs, but was able to ignore it for the moment. He had no idea if she was even all right in there, but he could do nothing more to help her.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not so cold anymore."

He breathed in relief. "Baeli?" he asked. "What's she doing? I can't hear her anymore." His heart was pounding, not able to hear the baby's raspy gasps any longer. _What if I was too late? No no no no no . . . live baby girl, you must live. We want you more than you know.  
_

"She's moving around a little. _Oh!"_ she exclaimed.

Drogo jumped up, ignoring the pain in his feet. "What?!"

"Look, Drogo! Watch her," she whispered. Dany tossed the blanket off her, out of the pit. Baeli was using her little hands and arms to pull and her little feet to push herself across her mother's chest, beginning to cry her little kitten cries as she moved. Drogo watched in amazement as his tiny daughter began moving herself closer to his wife's waiting breast, Dany's hands following her to support her little head and body.

"Help her, she's trying so hard, she's too small to try so hard," he whispered, more to himself than her. His hands ached to help, his breath caught somewhere between his heart and his throat.

Dany nodded, and sat up a little, and shifted Baeli in her arms to nurse, the motions coming as naturally to her as breathing. After a few attempts, the baby managed to get her little mouth latched on and began suckling softly. Dany erupted in tears of relief that were steaming and evaporating right off her cheeks. She whispered to her baby, stroking her cheek gently to keep her stimulated and feeding, bending down over her to kiss her softly.

"Dragonstone has a new princess," he stated proudly. "Blood of the dragons lives on, my wife."

"She was too cold," Dany whispered, more to herself than to Drogo, completely focused on her baby. "Too cold to eat." She began to check her over as Baeli nursed, holding her with one arm. As small as she was, her color was now pink and rosy with her steady breathing and the warmth. Dany held one tiny foot for a moment, marveling at it's size, before resuming her cradling position with both arms.

"You're going to be living down here for a while, aren't you?" he asked quietly. "You both need the fire."

"For now we do. I hope that it won't be long. I missed you so much," she admitted softly, her eyes leaving Baeli for the first time to look at him.

Drogo nodded, quietly accepting her grief. He casually looked up at the ceiling, trying to hide his tears. He stayed silent for a long time, not wanting to interrupt Dany's bonding with Baeli, the two of them finally getting acquainted after the trauma and delay. He rubbed his face, enjoying the relief he felt washing through him. He now understood why Dothraki men were chased out of birthing rooms, he thought with a grin. One big fucking messy nightmare, as far as he was concerned. Of course, he was more than pleased with the end result and was right where he wanted to be, and wished he had been involved with Rhaego's birth, but he was certainly relieved it was over. Daenerys had been so calm and brave, even though she had been afraid the baby would not live. He had a whole new list of reasons he loved and respected his wife.

He thought quietly before replying. "I missed you, too. More than I can tell you. I regret that you didn't know my reasons. I thought you knew," he lamented. "Being a Khal of the Dothraki was fine in Essos, but my ways aren't the Westerosi ways. You need a husband who knows how to be a master in this land, to be your equal here. Rhaego needs a father who has a place here, not just a place on a horse."

"You're thinking too little of yourself, Khal," she answered, looking up at him with a sparkle returning to her eyes. "I never thought I would see this day happen."

He sat up a little straighter and gave her a grin. "I am a father again today. When she's done, hold her up so I can see her better? All I can see is that her hair matches yours."

"She's pretty, Drogo," Dany said softly, looking back down at her feeding baby. "Her nose is just like Rhaego's, but her skin looks like it will be lighter than his."

_Of course she's fucking pretty,_ he thought. _Look at her mother, for love of the gods! _He momentarily felt guilty that he had not said it enough, proved it to her enough how beautiful she was, but dismissed the thought. He could change that. He _would _change that. He waited patiently, ignoring the pain in his legs and feet, willing to wait as long as necessary to see his baby. When Dany shifted the tiny baby in her arms, he asked again eagerly, "Hold her up, I want to see her."

"Can you come closer? If you can get close enough, I'll give her to you. I need to get these blankets out of here so she doesn't get smoke sickness," Dany offered with a smile.

Drogo scooted closer, able only to get within a few feet of the pit. His burns screamed in agony at the returning heat. "No closer," he said regretfully. He had really, really wanted to hold his daughter.

His disappointment must have been obvious, because Dany took immediate action. "I'm coming to you, then. I'm feeling better, and she has had her fill for now," she said, smiling, and slowly stood. She tossed the furs and blankets from under her out of the pit toward the door before walking toward him, Baeli cradled delicately in one arm against her chest.

As soon as she began to move, the dragons came out of their recessed nest on the opposite side of the room from Drogo, swooping down to the pit to curl up in the abandoned stones. They seemed to know something big was happening, so they had been staying quiet and gave Dany room. Normally, when they were in her presence, they chittered and squawked and perched on her, preening their leathery wings and sharp talons with their needle like teeth. Dany gave them a backward glance as she left them, a fond and indulgent expression on her face before one of sorrow took its place. Baeli's twin forfeited its life so they could be hatched. There should have been two. Dany allowed herself a moment of grief before making her way to the edge of the pit, Drogo understanding her mind and letting her have her minute to mourn. He was too fucking glad that Baeli survived to worry much about anything else, and hoped Daenerys would soon feel the same.

She used the stones as steps to climb out, and then sat on the blanket she had tossed out earlier, using it to scoot closer to her husband. He reached out for them both before she could hold the baby out to him, and he gathered them both close in his arms. Once in his embrace, she turned toward him and placed his daughter in his arms. She watched as he looked her over carefully, counting toes and fingers, before he brought her to his chest and held her tenderly, just as he had done with Rhaego, the same tender care. Her eyes filled with tears as he bent his head and kissed her softly on her tiny forehead.

His eyes burned with unshed tears as he looked her over, amazed at how small she was. He had never seen a baby so small survive. She was going to be one tough girl child, and he relished the thought with a grin as he pulled her close and kissed her. "Baeli," he whispered to her in Dothraki. "You are mine."

* * *

Well? I'd appreciate your thoughts on this one, if you have a moment to spare?


	22. Chapter 22

Little bit of sweetness before *stuff* starts happening again . . .

* * *

Dany didn't sleep that night, preferring to simply hold Baeli on her chest and marvel at her while they cuddled in the hot glass stones. Dany was relieved that she now sounded like any other sleeping babe, her nightmarish rasping and struggling to breathe gone. When she woke to feed, Dany whispered to her and touched her softly, admiring her silken white blonde hair, her beautiful slate grey eyes. Rhaego's had been the same when he was first born, before they had turned the indigo purple of his namesake.

Her hope was that if she fed the tiny girl often enough, she would start to fill out a bit; her little arms and legs were thin since her little body hadn't had time to gain any fat in the womb as Rhaego had done. As Dany traced her finger delicately over every raised rib, she bit her lip and struggled to not cry. She tried to prolong her feedings, tickling her cheeks and little feet, running her fingers down her tiny arms and back to keep Baeli awake and actively nursing.

Irri brought Rhaego in to see them the next morning. Dany immediately shifted Baeli over to one arm as she slept, and held out her other arm to her sweet boy. Over Rhaego's loud clamoring to be with his mother, and Dany gently guiding him down into her lap and peppering him with kisses, she asked, "Where is Drogo?"

"He was burnt, Khaleesi," Irri said quietly to keep from Rhaego's ears. "The maester has been attending to him."

"How badly? He never said anything, and he was here for hours!" Her heart sank with a sickening sense of worry. _He never said anything!_

"Not harmful, but stones are very hot, Khaleesi. I'm as near as I dare," Irri replied, shrugging. "Rhaego was crying to be with you. He's eager to see his baby."

Indeed, Rhaego was already admiring Baeli quietly, touching her hair and then touching Dany's, a wide smile on his face. He leaned over carefully and kissed the baby on her head before patting her cheek softly with his own chubby toddler hand.

"Do you like her?" she asked her son quietly.

Rhaego only nodded, not breaking his gaze away from the baby, his face reflecting his thoughtful preoccupation. He reached for the baby again, running a finger over her tiny hand as it grasped at Dany's skin.

"You're being very gentle with her, Son. This makes me happy," she whispered to him, kissing his cheek again as she pulled him close. She kept her lips pressed to his face, inhaling his sweet scent, his presence washing calm through her body. A quiet calm took over her entire being, and she breathed him in, enjoying the moment of having him so near.

Still he said nothing. The few words he could pronounce seemed to be temporarily taken from him as he laid his head down on Dany, very near Baeli's platinum head, and sighed deeply as he wrapped an arm around Dany's neck to secure his place, the other coming up to rest on Baeli's bare little back. His small hand almost completely covered her back, she saw with amazement.

He looked up at her for a moment, one of his few words finally making its way out. "Mine?" he asked, serious.

"Yes," she whispered, smiling, fighting the tears in her eyes. "She's yours, and Mother's and Father's, too. She belongs to all of us, Rhaego."

He accepted her words with a smile, and reached up to touch his mother's face before laying his head back down on her chest, his thumb finding its way to his mouth as he patted his mother's face gently.

Dany bit her lip and held him tightly to her, a babe in each arm. It was more than she had ever hoped for as a young girl, wandering and running with her brother, no place or person to call her own. She missed her brother in that moment, missed the boy he had been before he had gotten twisted inside, missed his smile before it had been forever ruined by anger and madness. She wished he could be in Dragonstone with them, wished he could have found happiness like she had. _Viserys._ She could see his happy smile when he was young, laughing at her as she plucked a lemon from the tree out her bedroom window in Braavos and bit into it, expecting it to taste as good as it smelled. He had laughed at her expression for days, longer than it took to wash the awful taste out of her mouth.

Rhaego fell asleep sitting in the crook of her arm, so she gently settled him down next to her as she shifted a waking Baeli to feed. Dany was tired. It had been constant, the feeding and tending to her new little one, and she needed to sleep. She wanted Drogo to come back so she could stop worrying and ask him how badly he'd been hurt and ensure the good maester had tended to his wounds thoroughly. She longed for her soft bed upstairs. The stones and hard floor of the pit were not exactly built for comfort, but necessity kept her there.

She curled up next to Rhaego as best she could, holding Baeli to her chest to keep her secure. She managed to drift in and out of a very uncomfortable sleep, but soon sat up again to nurse a waking baby. An hour passed, and Rhaego was awake again. He climbed out of the pit and into Irri's waiting arms, ready to eat lunch. After promising to bring Dany back something to eat, they left.

As she waited, leaning back against the side of the pit, Drogo came back, limping slightly, but otherwise unhurt. He took one look at her and chuckled. "You are very tired. Let me warm up a bit and then pass her here. I'll make you a bed."

"Rhaego was just here. How badly were you burnt?" she asked, her words running together as she stood up. She swayed slightly on her feet as though she'd had too much wine to drink. _So tired._

"Damn, did he get a chance to see her? I missed it! How was he with her?" he demanded eagerly, tossing a thick blanket and some furs down on the floor in a makeshift bed, happy as she watched him with a look of relief on her face. He avoided her question about his burns. No sense in worrying her over wounds already healing. For that reason alone, he was glad she was so tired, because she completely accepted his deferment.

"Oh, Drogo, he loves her. He couldn't stop touching her and staring at her. He said 'Mine'." she answered, tears forming in her eyes.

"That makes all of us, then," Drogo replied. "Now it's my turn for her to be 'Mine'. Give her here." He reached out for his daughter, a large smile on his face.

"Your poor mother," Drogo whispered to Baeli, watching Dany as she curled up and immediately fell asleep. "I've never seen her so tired, not even when your brother was new. She didn't even have the energy to cry." He kissed his baby on the top of her head gently as she stirred briefly before falling back asleep.

He gestured to Irri to be quiet when she returned with food for her Khaleesi. Nodding, she set the massive meal on the low obsidian table near the windows, and Drogo immediately turned his attention back to his sleeping daughter. "You will be a fierce warrior, my little one," he whispered. "You're fighting a battle none of us can know. Your strength now will need weapons later." He grinned in the dim light, visions of a white blonde girl, arakh in hand, learning from her father how to wield it. He shuddered at the thought, seeing Dany's face on the young girl, eyes alight with ferocity and power. "A bow first might be better," he thought aloud, admitting that a daughter of his with a blade in her hand could be a very, very bad thing. Not for him, but for any young man that may take an interest in her.

_Shit. Fuck. The Great Stallion be all fucking damned to oblivion. _He hadn't realized the implications of having a daughter, not really. He was surprised at how violently his mind reacted to thinking of his Baeli being interesting to a young man. He knew he couldn't protect her forever, however, so he consoled himself with promises to teach her how to be so strong and fierce that any man would think twice before hurting her. _She will not be given to any man as a gift, not at any age, _he thought, remembering his own guilt that Daenerys had been so tenderly young when her brother forced her to marry him. That would be the best he could do. She would be free to make her own decisions, but he would arm her to the teeth with whatever she desired so she could do anything she set her mind to do. Rhaego's destiny was already written in the stars, but Drogo intended that his baby sister would write her own.

* * *

Daddy's already freaking out, and she's only a day old. Poor Drogo.

I'm hoping to have more time to devote to this once my kindergartener starts her new school next week. I really want the chapters to be longer so I don't end up with a story with hundreds of little choppy bits here and there. I have so many plans and THINGS to have happen it makes my head spin. There's LISTS, I tell you! LISTS! ;)


	23. Chapter 23

Dany dozed quietly as Baeli slept cuddled to her chest. Drogo laid next to her quietly, watching the steady rise and fall of Baeli's back as she slept. She was growing fast, and gaining weight rapidly. She was thriving, her little arms and legs starting to show a bit of flesh, and he couldn't see her ribs any longer. He wasn't surprised, his wife was an excellent mother to his children, more nurturing than he knew mothers could be. Her patience and perseverance to care for Baeli the past two weeks without a wet nurse to help astounded him. Any Dothraki mother would have given up on or given away a premature daughter long ago.

"Your Grace, Ser Barristan Selmy requests cousel," Maester Pylos said as he entered the keep, his soft voice still startling her. Drogon clacked his teeth in annoyance and hissed at his disturbance, but coiled back up in the stones with Viserion, resting his head on Rhaegal's back. They were growing fast, too, now the size of large dogs. Drogo swore he could _watch_ them grow, but he dreaded the day they started spitting fire.

"Where is Lady Sansa Stark? He was supposed to get her out of there," Dany replied quietly, not wanting to disturb Baeli's nap on her chest. Drogon hissed and chittered at the further disturbance.

"He seeks counsel on where to house her. She is here and badly frightened, Your Grace," Maester Pylos explained, nodding, keeping one eye on Drogon. He trusted their mother well enough, but with her preoccupied with a baby, he was concerned they were getting out of hand. They were not pets, they were the most dangerous of beasts brought back into the world with fire and blood.

"Take her in immediately, Maester. I will come to her as soon as I can. Give her the unoccupied room next to ours for now, and see that she is made comfortable. Drogo," she whispered to him. "Take Baeli for a few moments? I need to see to Sansa."

He grinned and held out his arms as he sat up, eager to hold his baby. He loved his little princess, loved the way she would look at him before closing her sleepy eyes and falling asleep on his chest, little fingers clutching into his sparse chest hair if he wasn't careful about putting a blanket between them. She didn't seem to mind the shift of parents holding her the way Rhaego had, only fussing when she was hungry or needed changing. Drogo was relieved that she didn't seem to have inherited the dreaded screaming trait.

He draped a thick blanket over them both after she settled and fell back asleep. She was still so very tiny, and needed help to keep warm despite her progress. He was barely warm enough for her as it was, but down in the keep and with a blanket over her, she didn't even stir to wake as he held her.

Rhaego chose that moment to sit in his lap, using all of his body language to tell his father to make room for him, too. Drogo smiled at his small son, shifted Baeli over to one side, and opened his remaining arm for him. "Come, son. There's plenty of room for you here, too."

Rhaego happily clambered up, sitting on Drogo's arm. "See your baby?" he murmured to his little boy. "She is too small to stay warm by herself. Your mother and I take turns holding her so that she can stay warm and grow."

"Mine," Rhaego answered. He cuddled up next to Baeli in his father's arms and propped one of his chunky toddler arms around her. "Hold."

"Yes, you can hold her, too. You're her big brother, and she'll need plenty of looking out for from you, my son." Drogo left out the part where he suspected Baeli was going to not like that very much as she grew older. He smiled at his wife's now clothed form as she retreated quickly from the room.

. . . . . . .

Dany straightened her dress. It wasn't one of her favorites, but it would work. She sighed, wishing she could take the time to do more than pull her hair into one long braid down her back. The simple leather and silk tie at the end brushed the top of her rear as she walked, and she briefly wondered when her hair had grown so long. She smiled to herself, realizing that she was nervous about meeting a 14 year old girl. Not just any girl, but a girl who was nearly as high born as herself, she reasoned. Dany had never known anyone of nobility besides Viserys, and she wondered, for one insecure moment, if Sansa would like her. The voice in her head that sounded like Drogo scoffed at her and said, "_Of course she's going to like you!"_

She tapped on the door and waited. A shuffling of feet and then silence was all the reply she gained. She tapped again. "Hello? Lady Sansa? Are you well?"

Silence followed, but after a few moments of patiently waiting, Dany was greeted by the door slowly opening. A pale girl with long red hair and dark circles under her eyes stood in the door way. "Yes?" she whispered, then stared openly, clearly surprised to see Dany standing there, alone. _Ah, she knows me already,_ Dany observed.

"May I come in?" Dany asked, smiling. "And we'll close the door so we can talk privately."

Sansa opened the door wider, and stood aside, head bowed before moving to allow Dany to pass. Dany silently admired the girl's long auburn hair as she walked past, not knowing that Sansa was doing the same with her own platinum locks. Dany glanced around Sansa's well furnished room, and chose a spot on a low couch to curl up, her feet tucked up under her. She was trying to make herself less intimidating, although she wasn't exactly sure how her small frame and freckled, exhausted face could intimidate Lady Sansa Stark.

"Have you eaten yet? Can I send for some water?" she asked conversationally.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but Maester Pylos has already seen to my comfort," Sansa answered immediately, her tone low and submissive as she looked anywhere but at Dany.

Dany stifled her groan. _Come on, Sansa, help me out here. This is awkward and painful. "_Ah, well, I'm glad he listens to me when I ask him to do things for me," she sighed. "If only he wasn't afraid of dragons."

Sansa's head popped up and warm grey blue eyes met Dany's lilac ones. "It's . . . true, Your Grace? There are dragons here?"

Dany giggled, instantly relieved, the tension gone. "Yes, they're here, still growing, the noisy boys. Do you like children, Sansa?"

Sansa smiled softly, her eyes turning sad. "Yes, Your Grace. I have lost my younger siblings, but I loved them."

Dany decided to not wait to tell her, her instincts telling her that if she were to immediately put Sansa at ease, this was going to be much more pleasant for them both and would seem less like an interrogation. "Sansa," she began, taking Sansa's hand and holding it, attempting to get the girl to relax a bit. "It is my intention that you be returned to your brother Robb and your mother Catelyn as soon as possible. Your father spoke for me and against King Robert in the grand council chambers more than once. He saved my life. In return, I wanted you safe from the Lannisters," she explained. "You are welcome to stay here in Dragonstone for as long as you like, and should you ever want to return, you are most welcome to do so. I wish to renew the alliance between the Starks and the Targaryens. You are not being held as a captive. I had only your safety in mind by keeping you here."

Sansa listened to her quietly, seeming to accept her words and Dany's hand in hers. "And should I wish to return to my brother and mother right now?" she asked, her voice low and quiet. She began playing with the silk fringe on a cushion with her free hand, giving it a great deal more concentration than it required.

"I would advise against it," Dany begun, squeezing her hand lightly, and Sansa quickly looked up to her face. "I don't know what you know about the war that the Lannisters are waging against the Starks . . ."

"I know a little, but not much, Your Grace," Sansa admitted, hesitantly, unsure why she was beginning to trust Daenerys Targaryen. "But I know that Robb is winning battles. Jeoffry would hit me when Robb would win."

Dany couldn't stop herself. She launched herself across the cushion and embraced Sansa. "You are _not_ to blame, and your brother is right to fight!" she exclaimed vehemently. "I. . . I only advise against you joining them because they're in the middle of a battlefield, and there would be nowhere safe for you there. You can stay here and be safe with us."

She smiled at that, truly smiled. "I'm grateful, Your Grace," she whispered, her smile shy but relieved as she hesitantly returned Dany's embrace before sitting up again. "There are rumors," Sansa began, but then stopped.

"Rumors? I daresay that rumors of me are all King's Landing has, wouldn't you say?" Dany asked with a smile and a wink. "Tell me?"

Sansa took a deep breath and seemed to relax, the smile reaching her eyes genuine. "Rumor has it that you married a . . . "

"A savage?" Dany finished with a laugh. "I've heard that one. No, he's not. I'm afraid to disappoint you there. He's large and intimidating, and would probably finish off the great Jaime Lannister in one blow, but a savage he is not."

Sansa, warming up to the game and Dany's warm, friendly laughter, asked, "Will I need to eat a stallion's raw heart in order to be in his presence?"

Dany laughed outright at that. "Absolutely not! _I_ had to, for tradition's sake, to ensure our son would be born a healthy boy, however."

Sansa grew brave, and decided to put to rest the one rumor that had horrified her most. "We, I mean, I've been told that your son has dragon wings, and was born twisted and dead, but came to life after you threw his body into a fire."

Dany was shocked. She had never even heard a hint of this rumor. "What?" she whispered. "NO! Rhaego was born alive and well, just like any other babe . . . he's . . . perfect." She trailed off as she thought of her little boy, so bright with an easy smile, though he was starting to show he had a stubborn streak. Drogo was starting to tease her about how much Rhaego was showing to have her temperament.

Sansa halted her questioning. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, Your Grace, I didn't mean to . . ."

Dany smiled, and took her hand again. "If that's the worst of it, then I can live with that. You didn't offend me. I'm just shocked someone could be so awful to think of something like that. And it's Daenerys. I would like us to truly be friends, Sansa Stark. We aren't separated by many years, and being forced to survive in frightening places has the effect of making one older, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes I feel as though I'm already an old lady," she admitted sadly. "I feel as though I grow older every time I think of my family."

"Would you like to meet mine?" Dany asked softly after a few moments. "They're all together now, the children and Drogo. I need to feed my baby soon, and I would rather you not be up here all by yourself and worrying about all the people who live around you now. Come," she invited, standing and taking Sansa's hand. "It's hot in the dragon's keep, but my daughter was born early, and the heat is keeping her comfortable while she grows. Soon, I'm afraid, she will be keeping everyone in these rooms awake at night."

"You . . . you have a baby in the same room with dragons?" Sansa asked, incredulous, as they made their way down the dark hallway to the keep.

Dany gave small snort and giggle. "It's easier to keep an eye on everyone when they're all in the same room. Less yelling I have to do to keep order," she teased, raising her voice as she pushed open the door.

Sansa gasped as she saw the dragons, now the size of large Alsatians, as Rhaego ran past her, shrieking with laughter while chasing Viserion's lashing tail, Drogon in hot pursuit of the little boy. Rhaegal gnashed his teeth as they ran past, snapping at Drogon as Drogon plowed over the top of him to chase Rhaego. Drogo was lounging in the corner, Baeli sound asleep despite all the noise, watching the dragons with an attentiveness that belied his posture. He was watching Drogon as the dragon caught the little boy's leather shirt carefully in his teeth, then let go. The heat in the room was like a living wall, it's own entity as Sansa stepped in the room and closed the door behind her.

"See? Chaos. Complete chaos when I leave for a few minutes. It's going to take an hour to get everyone calmed down again," Dany laughed, and tugged Sansa's hand. "Come and meet the rightful king of the Iron Throne and his pets."

* * *

Ok, I'm not as emotionally close to Sansa Stark as I am with Dany. Two very different personalities, I guess, but I did my best. I don't know how long she's going to stay in Dragonstone, but I'm hoping for at least a little while. I MAY have plans for her yet ;)

If you haven't already done so, check out my new story, A Twist of Love. It's the prequel to Healed. All the way back to the beginning we go! You might like it. It's old, tired material, to be sure, but maybe some new things a few of you haven't read/seen/considered. Let me know if you have insights or want to curse me out for doing badly. :)


	24. Chapter 24

Never thought that I would be bringing *him* to Dragonstone . . . He insisted. We'll see.

* * *

The out of breath knight entered the main Hall, heading directly for Maester Pylos' chambers, his armor dented and battered with years of wear and tear, his short hair disheveled and dirty. "Robb Stark needs more men. He has held Riverrun and overtaken the Lannisters. We MUST help him hold it!"

The maester slowly put down his ink and pen before turning to his young assistant. "Call for Ser Barristan Selmy and the privy council. I shall announce the council to Her Grace, and see how quickly we can get the men our King of the North needs. Why did you not send a raven?" he asked, turning toward his surprise guest.

"I have words and counsel for Her Grace that could not be trusted to a bird," he answered shortly, and laid his sword down on the Maester's table. "Please show me to your council chambers."

. . . . . . .

As he paced and waited, Ser Barristan Selmy laid a calm hand on his arm. "She will be here shortly. It takes her some time to settle the family affairs before attending to her stronghold."

"We had heard . . . a new princess of Dragonstone. A _khalakki. _I'm sure Her Grace is pleased, and one can only hope the Khal is not too disappointed with a daughter," he answered graciously, but the note of contempt was not lost on Ser Barristan.

"Her Grace indeed is pleased, and both are recovering well. It's not just the children, it's the dragons, too. They're growing, and need nearly constant training to keep them under control. All of these things make for a very busy Queen. What really brings you here, Ser Jorah Mormont? Besides news of the battle?" The older knight chose to not let the tenor of Ser Jorah's voice affect him, but reminding him of Daenerys' dragons seemed prudent.

"I volunteered to act as Robb Stark's messenger. The Mormonts have always been bannermen to the Starks, and I had hoped with my pardon that I could continue to serve Lord Eddard's son and King of the North," he answered defensively. "And I should like to see how well she is faring for myself. I had heard rumors . . . "

"There have been many rumors about me lately," Dany answered, hiding her surprise as she closed the door behind her. "To what do I owe this early morning pleasure, Ser Jorah? It's been two years now, hasn't it?"

For a split second before he bent the knee and lowered his eyes, he was in awe of her presence again. She had grown more beautiful since the last time he'd seen her. She glowed with health and he could see she truly was happy. "My Queen. I'm overjoyed to see you so well, Your Grace," he answered. "In Riverrun, we had heard talk of your daughter's birth. Too soon, was the word."

"True enough, but she is doing well with the help of her attentive father and myself, of course," she replied stiffly, not sure she was misreading his demeanor. Something about him was mocking, or . . . "Tell me why you're here."

"Our King of the North needs more men. He means to march on King's Landing, Your Grace. He wants Joffrey Baratheon dead for killing Lord Stark," Ser Jorah explained immediately.

"As he should. I want him off my son's throne. I have sixty thousand men, Dothraki and Westerosi knights both," she answered. "I fully support the Starks, and have already sent word with a trusted sword that I am happy to join forces with Robb. The sooner we can put Rhaego on the Iron Throne, the fewer lives will be lost."

"And that is why I have come, My Queen. Our King of the North accepts your offer of men and support, and would see the throne restored to a rightful Queen who will bring prosperity back to this realm," Ser Jorah answered, and lifted a roll of parchment up for her to take.

"Your Grace!" a messenger seemed to erupt into the private chamber. "The Lannister envoy is here. There's at least 20 of them! What do we do?"

Turning from Ser Jorah, message in hand, Dany smiled. "Where exactly are they?"

"The harbor, Your Grace."

"Ah, well. They won't make it here until this evening then. I'm not sending anyone to greet them, so they'll have to make their own way here. I'm sure they brought enough gold with them to manage the situation. Prepare for more people at the evening meal, and ready some sort of accommodations for them. Not too near the dragons keep, or my family's private chambers, if you will," Dany instructed gracefully. Ser Jorah gaped at her with disbelief, not recognizing this woman that had grown from the child he once knew in Essos.

"Now, Ser Jorah. Go to my master at arms and seek what you came for. I release the men you need. Here," she leaned over the table and wrote a quick note in a flowing script, sealing it with the sigil of her house. "Take this to him, and he will provide what you need. Before you go, I will have a written correspondence for King Robb's eyes only. You must deliver it in secrecy. I will trust you once more with my life."

Ser Jorah inwardly cringed at that. He was to blame for her life being in danger in the first place in Vaes Dothrak, the reason Drogo swore to the Mother of the Mountain and the stars above that he would take the Iron Throne for her and Rhaego. And now he was bringing the very chance to her doorstep. He bowed low and left the chamber, going straight to the smithy to seek out the master at arms.

A young man stood at the forge, built like an ox, hair as black as the heap of coals stored in the shed behind him. His gray eyes followed Ser Jorah for a few moments before he approached. "You, boy. I need the master at arms, where is his keep?"

The boy nodded and pointed to a long stone structure built against the wall. "There. Next to the stables. Need some of those dents taken out of your armor while you're here, Ser? I'm quick, and light with a hammer."

Ser Jorah thought for a moment, then unlaced the breastplate and handed it over. He stood and watched as the young lad began to heat the metal, then saw how delicately he began tapping out dents that had scarred his breastplate longer than the boy had been alive. He lost an hour that way, watching, amazed at the talent of one so young.

Once the message had been placed in the master at arms' hands, Ser Jorah picked up his newly repaired and polished breastplate and laced it on again. He pressed a few coins into the young man's hand and made for his horse. _She is happy, _he thought bitterly. He had hoped she had saved room in her heart for him, despite everything. Despite his unknown betrayal, his abrupt departure, and his shortness with her just today. He could see the truth in her face, in her healthy color, the beautiful and easy grace of her body as she moved. The frightened and timid child she had been was no more. She was confident, a woman fully grown despite her tender years. Drogo's love had made her so.

He rode to the village and prepared for a long night of drinking to drown out his regrets. A fool's errand to have come so far for only messages. But he stood to prove himself trustworthy once again, a private correspondence between a King of the North and a Queen of the South entrusted to his hands alone. He vowed to not violate that trust again.

. . . . . . . .

Dany sat at the long table in her council chamber, parchment and ink in front of her, thinking on how to write a response to Robb Stark. She knew what she wanted to say, but was desperate to avoid sounding threatening in her announcement that she had Sansa under her protection. The last thing she wanted was to cause them worry or panic. She decided the best thing to do would be to extend Lady Catelyn an invitation to see her daughter whenever she could come, no announcement needed. _Were my dragons grown, this wouldn't be so. I would simply take Sansa to her mother and brother and burn the Lannister host alive and be done with it, _she sighed.

The Lannister envoy from King's Landing was on their way up the steep and rocky terrain to Dragonstone even as she sat there in thought. She had to finish the letter she hadn't even started yet to get Ser Jorah on his way before they arrived. The political rules and conduct she had managed to master in a very short time did not support having both sides of a war under her roof at the same time, no matter which side she was allied with. On the other hand, she realized, having the Lannister envoy arrive to see warriors preparing for battle didn't seem too good an idea, either. _Shit. Fuck. What in the Seven Hells am I supposed to do now?_

She sighed and began putting ink to parchment, deciding to write plainly to clear her mind. She wanted her communication with whom she hoped would be her closest allies very clear. No hidden messages, no interpretations to be misunderstood should go to Robb. Sansa was her friend and honored guest, Dany wrote to Robb, leaving nothing out, nothing to chance. She promised him and Lady Catelyn that Sansa would be kept hidden and safe until they could come to take her home, or Winterfell was ready for the entire family to return home. She assured him that Dragonstone was supportive of his cause, and as such, she was sending him 40,000 men to fight for the North. The Targaryens would remain allies to the Starks as they had been before her father caused such grief and suffering between their Houses.

As she sealed the letter with the marbled red and black wax stamped with the sigil of House Targaryen, she wondered how Dothraki men would take to obeying orders from Westeros. With a pang of guilt, she realized she should have consulted Drogo before sending off so much of his khalasar into battle. _That was the whole purpose of coming here,_ she reasoned. _He had to have expected open war at some point._ Her thoughts did nothing to alleviate her suddenly insecure mind. She ought to have consulted him first.

Clenching her fists after wiping the sudden sweat on her forehead, she felt the tell tale ache in her breasts. It was time to feed Baeli, and deliver her decision to her husband. All she could do now was hope he wouldn't be angry with her for not consulting him first.

* * *

Wow, that one was tough to write. I expect many of you are back to the grindstone now, tests and papers to pass and write and so on. Good luck to you while you rock your universe!

I've started writing "A Twist of Love". It's the prequel to this, starting from Season 1, Episode 2. There's four chapters out so far, and I'm going to have it run right into the first chapter of "Healed". Check it out, it's not getting many reviews, so I don't think you guys are aware of it? I can't tell yet, but it's there for all you lovelies who are asking for more Dany and Drogo.


	25. Chapter 25

Dany watched as Drogo slowly sharpened his arakh, the fluid motion of his arm as mesmerizing as it was painful to watch. Each stroke brought him closer to leaving. The soft sound of the whetstone caressing the blade made her shiver despite the warmth in their bedroom. She wished she was recovered enough from Baeli's birth to make love to him before he left, but a night of lying next to each other would have to suffice. The lump rising in her throat was painful, and seemed to constrict more and more of her breath with each pass of the stone on his blade. Finally, she turned her head away so he wouldn't see her tears, looking down at their sleeping daughter snugly bundled against her skin as she lay on their bed upstairs.

Baeli could hold her own now out of the keep as long as Dany held her, skin against skin with a thick blanket draped over them, so they were going to attempt to keep her upstairs for the night. Dany had Irri help her rip some of Rhaego's old changing clothes in half so they would fit the tiny princess, and Drogo had come back to their room that evening carrying a soft blanket of cured rabbit skins that a few of the Dothraki women had prepared to help keep her warm in the Dothraki way. Dany had sniffled and cried a little at everyone's concern over their little girl as she wrapped her little baby securely in the soft, soft fur, and Baeli had snuggled right in for her nap. Drogo had just grinned in satisfaction and took the sleeping baby from Dany so she could nap, too, in their big bed for the first time since her birth.

Drogo set aside his weapon, and reached for Baeli. "I want to hold her for awhile before I go," he said quietly. "She's going to grow fast, and won't remember me when I come home again."

"She will know you, I promise," Dany said tearfully. "Drogo, I'm so sor . . . "

He held up his hand, cutting her off. "We came here for this. It is what I can do to get Rhaego's throne to him," he stated. "Better you stay here and talk the half talk of the Lannisters in the morning. If I stayed, your family's Hall would be full of guests swimming in their own blood. This is the way of the world, Moon of my Life."

She nodded slowly, and watched as he began to walk around the room, holding Baeli securely against his chest as he paced. He stopped when he reached Rhaego's bed, and stood over his son, watching him sleep. "I'm leaving Cohollo behind to teach him the Dothraki way," he said quietly. "And I'm not ready to part with my old friend. I know he would ride hard into the battle as only the young men should, and I do not want to find him with his braid cut."

Dany nodded, understanding. "I will send Rhaego out to him every morning," she promised. "Unless I need him to help me with his brothers."

"Yes. Good. There are many things my son must know before I return to teach him the rest."

"Drogo . . . just . . ." she paused, and gathered her breath. "Just . . . make sure you return to us. I need you."

He walked back to her swiftly. "I need _you_," he whispered, kneeling next to her side of the bed. "I need you to stay here and get well. I need you to continue to raise our children with all the compassion and love they're accustomed to having from you. I need you to let your private council worry about matters that you are unsure of. I know these are bigger tasks than I will have, but I will come back to you, and we will pick up where we left off here tonight." He kissed her softly on the mouth, savoring her sweetness and locking that taste/smell into his mind so he could pull it out again when he needed it, for he knew he would.

He settled in the bed next to Dany, Baeli still snuggled on his chest as Dany rested her head on his shoulder. His heart ached at her struggle to silence her sniffles, but said nothing to her about it, just held her and let her cry. She had made a difficult decision, and it had repercussions she hadn't considered when she gave the orders for the Dothraki warriors to ready themselves for battle. He thought that she would have realized that if she was going to send his men into war, he, Khal Drogo, would have to ride and lead them into it. He had just been waiting for the time to present itself, knowing it would have to happen. Wasn't that the entire reason for suffering for so damn long on that fucking ship? Why bother traveling the Red Waste if not for war and Rhaego's throne? He left behind Vaes Dothrak and everything he had ever known, fully prepared for this war.

The only things that made it difficult to fulfill his end of the deal were in this very room with him. Rhaego was growing so fast with new words every day, in both the Common Tongue and Dothraki, and Daenerys was already beginning to teach him High Valyrian as well. Such a bright young boy, the pride of his father's heart. Baeli was sound asleep on his broad chest, snorting and snoring in the way only very young babies do, content in her familiar place; the safety and warmth of her father's arms. He was going to miss holding her. He was not going to miss changing her. He grinned. He thought Rhaego had made some abhorrent messes, but Baeli, his sweet and tiny daughter, had taken it to another level altogether, and she did it several times a day. "What the fuck?!" became his constant exclamation when attempting to change her, before stepping back and making Dany do it. "You handle it. I'll gut anything you want for dinner, but don't ask me to do this! How the fuck can someone so small . . . " and her laughter always cut him off before could finish his rant.

Daenerys. _Oh gods above and below_. He was going to sleep alone for many more nights than he cared to. He was going to lead his men into colder lands, and he knew he would be without his favorite source of warmth, his sole source of comfort on cold nights. Well, warm ones, too, he admitted. She was everything, the only reason he had come on this journey in the first place. He pushed aside all his thoughts, and concentrated instead on where he was, and who he was holding.

He leaned over carefully and kissed Dany on the top of her head. "You mind bringing my little man over to bed down with us?" he whispered. "I need him right now, too."

Dany nodded, and extracted herself from Drogo's arm and shoulder. Turning her head so she could wipe her eyes without him seeing, she scooped Rhaego out of his bed and settled him snugly between them before returning her head to his arm. She sighed, and curled around Rhaego, using Drogo's arm for a pillow. She worried about talking to the Lannister envoy in the morning, but she had put them off for two days already. She fought sleep for a long time, not wanting to waste a single moment of the last night her family would have together for quite some time.

. . . . . . . . .

Baeli woke everyone with her call for food. Rhaego crawled up to take his sister's spot when Dany lifted her off Drogo's chest, tangling his little fingers into his father's beard. Dany could see the sun was attempting to burn off the morning mists that swirled around the island on cold mornings. The grey slowly warmed to pink and then yellow before burning off as she fed her baby and then changed her, wrapping her warmly back into her rabbit skin blanket before returning to the bed.

Drogo was playing a game with Rhaego, tangling their fingers together. He claimed Dothraki boys all played this game, in attempt to improve their dexterity and hand eye coordination. From what Dany could see, it was just a whole lot of fingertips and tangled mess as her little boy laughed and pushed his father's hands away.

She got up and dressed, not ready for what lay ahead of her, but knew how to make herself appear at an advantage. She would bring the dragons up to the high seat and have them perch around her. They were mature enough to cause real intimidation now, just what she needed. She glanced back at the bed, Drogo still being pinned down by the children as she closed the door behind her.

. . . . . .

As Dany settled herself in the Targaryen high seat in her Hall, she could not ignore the number of red and gold cloaked people waiting for her. She struggled to appear as aloof about it as possible, remembering that the worst thing she could do was appear afraid of them. As they gathered and then one stepped forward, Drogon hissed and roared from his perch above her head. Rhaegal flipped his tail over her lap in a defensive posture, and Viserion rose up to his full height on her left. They _knew _she didn't want them here.

"Daenerys Targaryen, I am Ser Kevan Lannister, brother to Tywin, and great uncle to the King," he introduced himself, overweight and puffed up with importance, his yellow hair pulled back from a face reddened from drink and food from her table.

She smiled indulgently. "You mean to say, 'Your Grace, I am the brother to a murderer and a great uncle to a bastard born of incest'," she said sweetly. "That doesn't sound like much to be proud of, Ser." Drogon hissed again, eyeing the man.

"My Lady of Dragonstone, we have come to ask your intentions regarding the king's uncle Stannis Baratheon, as you have taken his stronghold," he pressed on, refusing to acknowledge her invitation to get angry.

"I have taken my family's stronghold back from the Usurper's brother. It is mine, and he did fight as hard for it as someone should fight for stolen goods," she replied, unfazed by his words. "I intend to remain here for as long as I like. It is mine." She could tell the man was losing patience with her, and it amused her. She didn't let it show, however. The day was still young, and she had more she wished to say before they left. She wanted them to go home with a thorough chastisement, lion tails tucked behind them as the dragons screamed them out.

"Lady Daenerys," he began, but was pushed aside by the Imp. Dany recognized Tyrion Lannister by descriptions that had preceded him. She knew he ate at her table these past few days. She also knew that her father Aerys had loved Johanna Lannister and had bedded her under Tywin's very nose when he had served as her father's Hand. There was some rumor that Tywin could not prove that Tyrion was his, but kept him as he had claimed the life of his beloved Johanna. She could very well be looking her own half brother in the face. She had heard of his wit and his uncanny ability to discern truth out of lies. It did not frighten her in the least. She had nothing to hide.

"My Lady," Tyrion began, but Drogon had finally had enough. He began making an odd sound in his throat, and before Dany could pull him off, he hissed and spat fire. The Lannister envoy stepped back several paces, alarmed. She reached up and soothed Drogon, but he spat fire again, directed at the man at Tyrion's back. She reached up and shut his mouth, flames curling around her hand and arm as she did so. _Another dress ruined_.

Tyrion stepped forward cautiously, and spoke slowly and with great respect. "Might I speak before you in your private counsel? My uncle is certainly speaking poorly on our behalf." He looked at Drogon, and there was no missing his expression of awe. Drogon huffed and submitted to Dany's clamped hand around his mouth. He eyed Tyrion suspiciously as Dany slowly let him go.

"That remains to be seen, Lord Tyrion," she replied. "What are the Lannister terms? What does your family want from the Targaryens? I can tell you what the Targaryens want from the Lannisters."

"You want your family's throne back," he answered her dryly. "A noble cause, my Lady, but how do you propose to take King's Landing?"

She smiled at him, a genuine smile. Drogon reached down with one winged claw and rested it on her shoulder, obscuring almost her entire left side from view. He was getting more and more territorial as they spoke. She could see the scaled hackles on his neck rising and falling with each breath, red tipped and shining. She reached up and stroked his throat soothingly, surprised by the heat coming off him. He was gearing up for a fight, she realized, and rubbed him under the chin to relax him.

"That also remains to be seen, but rest assured, when I decide, the matter will be resolved and answered swiftly in my favor."

"Ser Jorah Mormont is here, my Lady," the Imp answered her. "We know which road you choose to use. Do you really believe the young Wolf will join with Dragons? Your father burned his grandfather and uncle alive right in front of the Iron Throne."

"Your bastard nephew murdered Lord Eddard Stark," she answered. "I'm sure King Robb of the North will remember centuries of Stark alliance with fair and just Targaryen rulers as he turns his back on the murderers of his father."

Tyrion nodded slowly. Oh, he liked this one. She held none of the guile or deception about her that he had grown so weary of in his own family. "My Lady of Dragonstone, may I please speak with you in private?" He held up a letter. His uncle Kevan flushed and gave him a dirty look, showing he obviously knew nothing about the correspondence Tyrion held. "I have brought you something of great value, and it was entrusted to me to bring it before your eyes alone."

* * *

Damn. And double damn. This didn't flow as well as I wanted it to, but after A LOT of working and reworking, it's . . . ok. I hope to do better with the next few. It's looking like I will try to update on Fridays; life is complicated and strange here, and I'm afraid my lack of tribe in this area is coloring the mood of my stories. I don't want that.


	26. Chapter 26

I've been reading your reviews, and WOW, you guys know how to make a girl's day. Thanks! :D I'm also realizing a lot of you think like I do . . . I've written ahead several chapters, and they still need a lot of fine tuning, but the basic ideas and outlines I think are going to make everybody happy. At least, I hope so.

* * *

Drogo oversaw his Dothraki warriors boarding the ships to the mainland, the horses being led below as the riders embarked onto the main deck. The horses were not happy about returning to ships, but the riders seemed in good spirits, more than ready for a fight. It had been many months of sitting around in the same place, and it was not the Dothraki way. They had been restless for some months and it didn't seem to matter how much time they spent sparring each other and drinking. Drogo noticed, himself included, that the warriors had indeed been at rest for too long, getting fat and lazy. It was going to take the entire journey to work off that extra mass, but it had done the horses a great deal of good, so they would be able to carry the Dothraki army quickly to their destination.

After careful consideration and collaboration with several of his Westerosi knights, Drogo decided he would have his men sail north around Crackclaw Point and into the Bay of Crabs, where they could disembark in the Saltpans and head directly south to Harrenhal. The fucking coldest route possible, _and _the longest by sea, but they would be well out and away from the shore, avoiding unwanted eyes and scouts. He was glad his wife had warmer clothes made for him shortly after they had arrived on Dragonstone. He was going to need them. He could feel the light snow start to fall before he could actually see it, the early autumn snow tiny and crystal-like instead of the fat, lazy flakes he had expected.

Drogo intended on going after Tywin Lannister first, figuring he'd be pissed enough after so long on a ship that he'd have more focused rage to go after him immediately. After the envoy had tried and failed to intimidate his wife that morning, he knew that it wouldn't end until they were completely without power. He intended to cut the main artery by killing the grandfather of the bastard king by sliding his arakh over his throat personally and be done with it. Then it would be a direct ride to Riverrun to meet the young Lord Stark, King of the North.

He was worried about leaving while the Lannisters were still in his house. True, it really belonged to his wife's family, but wherever his Daenerys and children lived, that was home. His home. He was concerned about what would happen if Sansa was discovered. Of course, she was safely hidden away, the guise of getting Rhaego a bigger bed made the way for Sansa to be moved into the same bedroom as Dany and the children. There would be no need for her to leave that room and the frightened little girl was happy to stay where the children were anyway. Drogo began to wonder if all girl children of Westeros were raised to be afraid, or if they all had such shitty males in their lives that it just happened that way. He gripped his arakh a little tighter at his side, still pissed at the mindfuck that Viserys had put his sister through. He was glad Daenerys had such a strong will and determination to make her life better. He was even more happy that he was part of it and could give her the happiness that she so deserved. _Fuck I'm going to miss her_.

He watched the docks, hoping to see his wife before they left. He waited patiently for hours, watching the ice accumulate while his men boarded the ships, finally spotting her riding her silver mare through the crowds of villagers watching the commotion. _Seven hells, that's got to fucking hurt_, he thought. Dany was having a slow recovery from Baeli's birth, despite the heat from the dragons keep. It made him proud that she was riding down to see him off in the Dothraki way, despite her pain.

He watched as the crowd parted in a wide arc around Dany, their Lady of Dragonstone. One old woman cried out to her, "My Lady Rhaella!" before a young man pulled her back into the crowd. Dany stopped her horse, and gestured for the young man to approach the horse. She dismounted slowly and then they talked briefly before the man guided the old woman to Dany. He watched in amazement as his wife embraced the old woman, and pressed something into her hand. The old woman kissed Daenerys on the cheek, and hobbled her way back to her home, supported and guided by the young man.

Drogo had watched, and in a moment of concern his hand twitched on the handle of his arakh, but he stayed where he was. Daenerys had _khas _hidden everywhere in the crowd, and she was in no danger. These people adored her and were happy with the prosperity she had brought home with her. She had worked very hard to bring about better trade and more safety for the entire island, and these people knew it. Criminals were sent to the Wall, not to a flimsy jail cell as Stannis had done. It had taken only two groups bound for the Wall, made to march through the streets to the docks and carrying their own bars of steel on their backs, for crime to all but cease. A harsh punishment, but one he was proud of her for ruling. _For the good of all_, he had assured her._ You are acting as a Khal, Moon of my Life._

He grinned as her eyes found him after she remounted. She rode directly onto the dock, her long hair hung in long curls over her shoulders and back. Her thick wool cloak was the color of the twilight sky over Vaes Dothrak, an image he would carry with him until he returned to her. _Gods, she's beautiful, _he thought. _Mine. Only mine. _

He reached up for her as she rode up to him, and he lifted her down off her horse, holding her tightly and kissing her soundly before putting her on her own two feet. She looked up at him for a moment, then buried her face into his chest. He chuckled and stroked her beautiful hair and kissed her where he wanted a crown to sit. "I will return," he said softly to her in Dothraki, resting his forehead on the top of her platinum one. "I will come for you, Khaleesi. We are the Sun and Moon. What did the old woman want?"

Dany shrugged. "She thought I was my mother. She apparently loved her very much. Her son takes care of her now, so I gave her a few gold dragons to help keep them warm this winter." _I'm not Rhaella, I'm her daughter, Daenerys,_ she had said to the old woman. _May the gods bless you, sweet baby. I remember the night you were born,_ she had answered, her voice shaky and thin, and had kissed her cheek. _You are the very image of your kind mother, sweet girl. _Dany felt a sense of both joy and sadness. It was the answer to a question in her heart for as long as she could remember. Viserys had sometimes looked at her as though his grief would spill over, and she had wondered if that was the reason. She had never dared to ask him, fearing that his sadness would turn to anger as it so often had. Better to stay silent and worry about pain than to speak out and guarantee it.

He held her tightly for a few moments, just feeling her breathe. "I love you, my Daenerys," he whispered, pressing his nose into her sweetly scented hair, memorizing her smell. "Take care of my children. You three are my life's blood."

She nodded, and turned to her horse and remounted. "I love you, Drogo. I will wait for you," she said softly. "Come home to us soon."

"As soon our North King lets us kick some ass," he promised, grinning at her. "Maybe you will be coming to me. I just might be keeping Rhaego's Iron Throne warm for him while I wait. I don't think I'm going to stay in the cold if I can help it," he teased.

"Don't let your ass get stabbed," she tossed back. "I hear the throne can be . . . sharp to those who don't belong there."

He laughed and squeezed her hand softly. "I will be back."

"I know."

"Good. Now, go back to our babies. You and I have work to do, my Khaleesi. Go kick some Lannister ass out of here, and don't let those fucking dragons burn down our home." He was pleased when she started laughing quietly.

"I'll make sure they burn your shit first," she teased in Dothraki, and turned her silver mare toward home.

He watched her as she made her way back through the crowd and through the village, her mare visible even as she began to climb up the side of the hill. His eyes stung from the cold as he watched her give the mare her head and race home to their children. He shook it off, glanced around at the visibly falling snow before wiping his nose. _Fucking cold ass winter is coming._

. . . . . . .

Sansa cuddled tiny Baeli as Rhaego rolled around on the huge fur rug in front of the fireplace in Dany's room. It felt strange for her to be here, dragons carved into the very walls of the room, seeming to stare at her with their black stone eyes. A wolf had no place in a dragon's lair; no more than a wolf belonged in the South. She wanted to go home, but she knew Winterfell had burned. A homeless wolf, so far from her pack. The baby in her arms was a dragon, though, as was her brother, and they had never made her feel unwelcome. Rhaego seemed quite fond of her, and Baeli seemed comforted when Sansa held her. She held Baeli a little tighter, snuggled in her soft fur blanket, and giggled at Rhaego's antics as he built a short tower out of his blocks and then took great pleasure in running through it and sending blocks flying in every direction. He tirelessly gathered them back up, built the stack again, and ran through it again, looking to her for her laugh. She realized that it had been so long since she had felt safe and happy that she was having difficulty remembering how it felt.

Dany stood outside the door for a moment, listening to Sansa giggle, then Rhaego laugh, followed by the crashing of wooden blocks. _Ah, that game,_ she smiled, relieved. _They were safe and stayed put while I was gone. _

She opened the door slowly, not wanting to disturb the fun. Sansa stood immediately, and made to pass Baeli back to her, but Dany waved her to sit. "I'll take her in a moment," she said. "Have you and Rhaego eaten? I'm going to have to meet with Tyrion in an hour or so, but that's enough time for everyone to eat and I'll feed Baeli before I go. Sansa," she began, seeing her friend pale at the mention of Tyrion, "Sansa, they have no idea you're here. Stay here in this room with Rhaego, and all will be fine. You're safe here. You will be going home to your mother and brother soon. I swear it on everything I hold dear. The Lannisters are _not_ going to get you. You will not be going back to King's Landing unless you wish it."

Sansa nodded slowly. "I know, it's just . . . be careful, Daenerys. Tyrion is very clever. He has a way about him . . . he can get you to tell him anything. I don't know how he does it."

"I will. Let me go get Irri and see what we can get here quickly to eat. I'm hungry, and I know this one," she said as she scooped up Rhaego and made him laugh. "This one is _always_ hungry!"

Rhaego laughed and pointed at his stomach. "Dere!" he laughed, trying to squirm out of Dany's arms.

"No, all that food goes . . . there!" Dany teased, poking at his knees, tickling him.

"NO! Dere!" he laughed louder, pointing at his stomach again. He batted at her hands and she let him go with a kiss. He was growing so fast. He would be taught to wield a knife soon, she realized. Cohollo was going to have his work cut out for him with this one. Rhaego flung himself on the thick fur rug and rolled around with his blocks, flinging them whichever way he wanted, just to see where they would land. The previous day, he had accidentally tossed one into the fireplace, but he had casually reached into the hot coals and grabbed his block, wiping the flames out on his little chest as Dany had carefully taught him to do. Sansa had screamed, frightened he'd burned himself. Startled, he had dropped the block, and Dany had to put Baeli down quickly to put out the fire on the blanket where it had landed. It took Rhaego climbing into Sansa's lap and wrapping his little arms around her neck for her to calm down.

Dany knew enough about what Sansa had gone through at King's Landing from what she wasn't saying. They'd had time to talk now and then, but Sansa seemed reluctant to talk about what had happened to her there. Dany recognized that feeling well enough. Who would have believed her as a young girl? In all the places she and Viserys had moved to and from as children, no one interfered with his abuse to her. No one had stepped in on her behalf, no offers of safety from her brother's fists or his cruel words. Why go back and think of all that again when it was safely in her past. _Well, not as far back in my past as I would like, nor does it always stay put there_, she admitted. She was glad that Sansa had trusted Ser Barristan enough to be smuggled, tightly concealed in first a rolled carpet, then again in a barrel stuffed with silk for the sea voyage to Dragonstone. She didn't know the particulars, nor did they matter now that she was safe. She silently promised Sansa every night that the little bastard that had hurt her so badly would die. It was all she could do for her now. It was what Drogo had done for her when he had finally had enough.

Dany spent the mealtime asking Sansa questions about Winterfell. "Today was my first experience with snow," she admitted. "What is a late summer snow compared to a winter snow?"

"About 6 to 10 feet, Your Grace," Sansa answered with a smile. "I only remember one winter, and it was mild by all accounts, but the snow was deep and even the glass garden stayed covered."

"What does everyone do so far north when it snows like that?"

"We stay inside. It can get lonely that far north, though. I spent a lot of time reading books out of Maester Luwin's room, books and books of songs and stories about knights and love," Sansa answered. "There sometimes was an odd messenger from the Wall, a lost caravan once, but it mostly was just us."

"The Wall. Wildlings are coming over the Wall, Sansa. I meant to ask. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing much, Daenerys, truly. I haven't known it to ever happen before, though. Does it mean anything to you?"

Dany stayed quiet for a few minutes. "It may," she admitted. "I've heard of some strange things happening North of the Wall from our allies, things that most people scoff at and dismiss as faerytales."

"Old Nan used to tell us some scary stories of what happens in the snow of deep winter North of the Wall," Sansa offered. "When you come back, I could try to remember some of them. I don't know how useful they'll be."

"Yes, I would like that. It's been some years since I've heard a good, scary story. We'll put Rhaego to bed first," Dany agreed, smiling at her.

* * *

Next up . . . showdown with Tyrion. I can't seem to make up my mind whether he's friend or foe. He has repeatedly assured his siblings (in the show and book) that his family means the most to him. But . . . dragons have always fascinated him. Would it be worth the risk to him to change sides for dragons? Would Dany welcome him to her small council if he could prove he was trustworthy? So many questions, so much to write! :D


	27. Chapter 27

Ok . . . here we go . . .

* * *

Dany drew in a deep breath before entering her private council chambers, closing the door softly behind her. Tyrion looked up from his wine and parchment, seemingly genuinely pleased to see her. "My Lady," he greeted her, getting up from his chair and bowing. "I hope you will have a few hours for us to talk."

"Hours? I can give you a few minutes, Lord Tyrion. I must tend to my daughter. She requires constant care." Dany thought it best to give herself an excuse to leave if she needed to. _I should have had Ser Barristan come with me_, she lamented. Drogo had wanted Ser Barristan Selmy to go to war with them, but Dany insisted that he stay with her small council to help her run things while he was gone. Drogo agreed readily; having both Cohollo and Ser Barristan at home to watch over them was a very good idea.

"I understand the _khalakki_ was born prematurely, Lady Daenerys. Is she in good health?" Tyrion's inquiry seemed to be genuine concern.

Dany smiled. "Yes, she is, despite her size. She has the strength of her Targaryen blood."

"She's fireproof, you mean," he said lightly, intrigued.

"As is my son," she answered slowly, suddenly wary, but wanting him to know her children were truly following in the footsteps of their ancestors. Only a handful of Targaryens had been willing to prove their unique resistance to fire, and yet both her young children had it. "He wasn't exposed to it at birth the way Baeli was, and it took some time for it to not bother him, but now he plays and sleeps with dragons as companions."

"Dragons have always been a source of fascination for me, from the time I was a small child. My father hated that I loved them, so of course that made me even more interested in every bit of information I could gather about them. I did not expect to have one breathe fire at me, though," he chuckled.

"I think that was meant for your uncle," she replied, sitting down at the long table in an attempt to show she was comfortable. "Drogon has never done that before. He felt that I was being threatened, and he was defending me. I fear to see what he would do if someone was the least bit threatening toward Rhaego or Baeli," she said pointedly. "I do know that I would not chastise or subdue him then."

"Nor should you, they are your children," he quipped. "I will speak plainly. I see a woman before me that is clever enough to be honest, a rare thing indeed in this game. My sister thinks she's twice as clever than she really is, and my brother is twice as stupid and doesn't care, and as long as he can wield a sword, it won't matter how smart or stupid he is. My father is your real trouble, not the brat sitting on your son's throne."

"Game? I'm not playing a game," she answered, the edge in her voice making Tyrion sit up a little straighter. "The throne belongs to Rhaego. If your father is playing a game, he will lose. That monster you're calling a brat is your own nephew."

Tyrion ignored her attempt to lump him together with Joffrey. "Tell me what you know of my father, and I will speak truthfully to you."

She sighed. "I know that . . . I know he loved your mother," she began. "But so did my father."

He looked at her strangely for a moment, but kept quiet, nodding for her to continue.

"I know that he was my father's Hand, and is the only man your sister fears. I know he wants me and my children dead, as he had ordered the deaths of my brother's wife and very small children. I also know my husband is on his way to kill him at Harrenhal. Have you seen Harrenhal, my Lord?" Tyrion nodded, and gestured for her to continue. "I hear the very stone was melted from my family's great dragon Balerion's breath, the very same dragon whose fire made the Iron Throne. It won't be long before Drogon's fire will be able to do the same." The words seemed to pour out of her, and it felt good. She noticed Tyrion was listening to her without fear, but with great interest.

"I have heard all of that," he agreed amiably. "My father cares about one thing only these days. The Lannister family name. Cares or concerns about anything else died with my mother. You had best hope that Jaime isn't at Harrenhal when Khal Drogo arrives. I think he would be the only man to be the Khal's match with a blade." Tyrion's words hung in the air for a moment, giving Dany time to think.

She felt a twinge in her gut as she realized she was dealing with Viserys all over again, only one with his wits about him entirely. Tywin Lannister was indeed a greater threat than she had imagined. A man so focused and driven could not be deflected unless by odds and forces ten times over his own. She felt sick. She had sent Drogo to deal with such a man, but she knew that Drogo could be just the same, especially when it came to a fight. There had not been much cause for serious fighting in the khalasar, but she had seen what Drogo could do when roused to fight. Maggo had called her a foreign whore, and Drogo had ripped his tongue out with his bare hands. She doubted that Tywin Lannister would meet Khal Drogo for hand to hand combat, but Jaime Lannister was another man entirely.

"He will not stop at Riverrun, will he?" she whispered. "He wants it all, doesn't he?"

"I think that's fairly accurate. I doubt he cares much about north of the Wall or Essos, however. Too difficult to maintain, no matter how much gold lines the bowels." Tyrion smirked at her before taking another drink of his wine.

She smiled at that, and then really looked at him, studying his face. "Do you think you are his son, or my father's?" she asked bluntly.

"I have no idea. I was not there to witness my own creation," he answered her, bemused. "But considering the personality traits, I'd say I am the trueborn son of Tywin Lannister. We are too much alike, except I have passions and a sense of humor. But, I have nothing else to prove it. I may very well be your father's bastard."

She nodded. "I must see to Baeli now."

He rose from his seat again and bowed. "My Lady Daenerys, I hope to continue this conversation soon."

"We can have dinner in my chambers this evening if you like. That is, if you don't mind children about."

"Of course not. I'm eager to meet the young Prince Who Was Promised. I've heard a great deal about him."

She turned and gave him a withering look. "Are you here to see if he has scales and wings, too?"

Tyrion had the decency to look shocked. "Where would you hear such a rumor?"

Dany smiled. "One hears things, when good knights are turned away and their fealty is slapped back at them as if it were worth nothing. Such a shame that so many good men have left your nephew's service in order to seek out a little girl who knows their worth," she answered him, an edge of mocking and ice in her voice.

"I see Ser Barristan has returned to the service of the next Dragon," Tyrion responded with a smile. "I look forward to meeting your son."

As she left the chamber, she had a sinking feeling in her gut that she'd shared too freely. She left herself open, and now more information about her and her family was now in the hands of a lord of the Lannisters. _How fucking stupid could I be? _she chastised herself. _I just . . . what did I just do? _She slowly walked back to her private room, stopping outside and leaning against the wall and slowly sank down to sit on the floor, her shaking legs not able to support her any more. _He pulled me in, taking in my words like drinking wine out of his cup. Am I such a child that I just allowed him do this? He knows where Drogo is going. And I invited him to dine with me tonight, too. Fuck. And . . . he had a letter for me. I completely forgot about it. Gods dammit all to fucking seven hells. _She would have to warn Sansa and get her back to her own room without being seen, and invite Ser Barristan to dine with her tonight, too. She wasn't about to be alone with Tyrion again. She got up and went down the long stairs to see Maester Pylos and have him stop all ravens from leaving Dragonstone.

Maester Pylos listened carefully to a distraught and shaking Daenerys as she told him of all that had transpired. He quickly made her tea, promising it would calm her better than any words he could offer. She sat quietly and drank the minty tea, and asked him what was in it that made it so sweet. "A rare herb, Your Grace. A gentle soother that is safe for you to drink, and not harmful to Baeli. I earned my herbalist link early in my stay at the Citadel, and I have always enjoyed plants. Peaceful work, but always good to know the deadly side of it, too."

"Oh, your garden . . . that glass house up on the . . . " she gestured in the general direction of one of the landings outside.

He smiled. "Yes, Your Grace. Now, when you dine with Tyrion, make him work for the information, and give him only what you want him to know. You can do this. You're strong, clever, and more than capable of running this stronghold and the lands beyond. It's these reasons that you have so many flocking to your doors, eager and ready to serve the rightful Queen. You _are_ the rightful Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, and Rhaego will rule after you. Don't let Tyrion forget who he is talking to," he counseled, hoping she would see the truth in his words. "Now, the real question. Do you want Lord Tyrion to leave Dragonstone?"

She quickly looked up from her cup to the maester's face. "What do you mean?" she asked. "He's part of the Lannister envoy. He will leave when I decide they're done here."

"True. But from what you've told me, it sounds as though he may be more interested in staying than leaving with them," Maester Pylos observed. "I wonder if he truly wants to return to that mess in King's Landing. I know Tyrion Lannister to be a smart man, and a smart man would take the opportunity to do what he can to save his own life."

She smiled at that. "Should any of them leave?" she asked her cup quietly. "Would save a few cattle if we fed the dragons on Lannisters."

The maester cleared his throat quietly. "Your Grace, you may want to have someone else to dine with you this evening. I can arrange to have Ser Barristan to join you," he offered.

"Yes, thank you. I intended on asking him myself, but if I could have you do it, I won't have to go downstairs and see all those red and gold cloaks again. Ugh." She made a disgusted sound. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to complain. It's better to be here dealing with this than to be lost in Braavos with nothing to eat and nowhere to get out of the freezing mud and rain." She shivered lightly, remembering. _So long ago, it seems as though it was another lifetime. Or a nightmare. Viserys. _She swallowed the ache in her throat, missing the sad, violet eyed boy who had spent that night in the snow and mud so he could hold her in his lap to help keep her warm. _You are a princess_, his voice had whispered to her. _A princess doesn't lay in the mud like a beggar. You are a princess . . . _She had been only six that night, that nightmare ago, that lifetime ago.

"It's good that you can think in those terms, Your Grace. Remember who you are. Do not let the Imp take control of the conversation if he is indeed here to keep you away from your throne. If that is his purpose here, he should not be considered a guest." Maester Pylos had a grave face as he gave her the best advice he could.

"You've given me good counsel, Maester. I appreciate your help and the tea," she answered gratefully, and set her empty cup back down on the table. She sighed, her nerves calmed, but sad. Her mind was awash with long forgotten memories, none of them happy. She looked up at the maester and the tears overflowed.

"Your Grace?" he asked gently, unsure what to do for her.

"I'm . . . I'm remembering things. Sad things that I had forgotten. My brother . . . we, we struggled to live when we were young and exiled. It drove him to madness. He was a child himself, and he had me to raise," she began, but stopped. "I'm sorry, I just . . . " She got up and left the room, letting her tears fall as she quickly climbed the steps to the next landing, Sansa and the children hidden safely away from the outside world. _Viserys._

* * *

I've been dreading posting this chapter. Tyrion is loved by so many, and I desperately wanted to do him justice. I hope I haven't failed anyone.


	28. Chapter 28

Khal Drogo sat in his tent, sharpening his arakh. His two knives had already been taken care of, laying side by side on what would have been Dany's side of the bed. _My sweet __Daenerys_. Her scent had long been gone from the cushions and blankets, he knew, because there wasn't an inch of the bed he hadn't searched for her. He was glad that none of his bloodriders knew about it. He was the brunt of enough of their jests and taunts lately as it was. There were plenty of women available for fucking, and one was instructed by his riders to wait for him in front of his tent the other night, but he couldn't bring himself to be interested. She had been attractive, certainly, but not . . . she wasn't _Daenerys._ That was all that needed to be said about the matter. He brushed off the jokes the next day, telling them to find him the woman with silver hair and two tits full of his own daughter's milk to satisfy his needs. That shut the fuckers up.

He rubbed oil on the finished edge, and set the weapon down next to the knives. He stared at them for a long time, letting his mind fill with thoughts of his wife and children. He wondered how big Baeli was, what she sounded like. He wondered what kind of mischief his son was finding with his dragons. His second nameday had just passed, he realized. _Oh, my son. I regret not being with you, but I will get your throne and then come home to you, my boy. My boy._

They were almost to Harrenhal. If they pushed the horses hard enough, they would be firing arrows over their walls that evening. A scouting party had already met their end, so they hoped to take the stronghold unawares. It had barely been a taste of blood for the Dothraki warriors, but it was just enough for them to get hungry for battle.

As much as he would have liked to let his mind wander back to Dragonstone, he fought the urge. To lose focus could mean death, and no man knew that more than Khal Drogo. He picked up the longsword he had acquired from a fellow knight, and tested the edge. He didn't need to sharpen it, knowing that the strength of the swing alone was enough. It could be as blunt as a practice blade and still do the job it was designed to do. He stood and swung it a bit with his right hand, turning it in a wide circle, using the pommel as a counterbalance, warming up, then picked up his arakh in his left. Grinning, he stepped out of the tent, and gave each weapon a turn in his hands before switching. Perfect. He could wield both at the same time. If that doesn't scare the shit out of the Lannister pussies, he didn't know what would.

Stepping back inside, he laid out his weapons on the carpet and sat on the bed, staring down at them. Tools of war. It had been a long time since he'd been in an actual fight, but the sparring and training on the ships had burned off his extra weight quickly. He was just as agile and quick with a blade as ever. He was deeply impressed by the ferocity his bloodriders had shown in training and riding the past two weeks after finally leaving the ships behind. It had been a swift ride by all accounts, and he was pleased his khalasar was holding up to the expectations of the knights. He knew he shouldn't give a shit, but he did.

Loud whooping and calling began outside, so he went to see what was happening. A young rider had shot down a raven carrying a message, and more of the warriors began collecting up a few arrows before spreading out to see if there were more. The message was given to him, but the words on it were only so many scribbles to him, so he passed it on to Ser Jorah's young blacksmith to read. The boy couldn't read, either, so he ran for Jorah.

Ser Jorah read it easily enough, and thanked Drogo for not letting it out of his hands before taking the message to Lord Umber, a loyal follower of Robb Stark. Drogo had met the man, and liked him well enough, but Umber wasn't too sure about Drogo or the khalasar. Drogo assumed it was because they were so different than any warriors the lord had ever joined command with. Oh well, not his problem. His problem was on the other side of the walls of Harrenhal, and in that aspect, they were the same. As long as Lord Umber stayed honorable to the goal, Drogo didn't give a shit what he thought.

Ser Jorah came back to Drogo at a jog, using the run to gain a few more moments of training. "The message. It was for the scouting party. Lord Tywin was waiting for their report about the ships in the Saltpans, Khal. We're undetected." Drogo grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking the old knight down into the mud.

"This is good news," he laughed. "We're already kicking some ass. Old Tywin is gonna shit himself when we're firing arrows into his walls."

Ser Jorah just shrugged and grinned, rubbing his face in worry. The man was always fucking worrying about some shit. Drogo decided to fuck with him for a little while to get him to stop.

"I hear your sister wears the armor in your family," he jested, taunting Jorah.

Jorah grinned at him, secretly glad that his betrayal was still unknown. He regretted what he had done, and he saw his chance to redeem himself by staying with Khal Drogo and keeping true to his loyalty to House Targaryen. "She does. Her name is Dacey, a she bear of Bear Island. She's with Robb at Riverrun. I haven't seen Dacey in . . . well, many years."

"And the reunion will be happy?" Drogo asked.

"I hope so. I've missed her. She left behind two grown daughters to join the fight," he answered.

Drogo whistled lowly. "Two daughters. I don't know what to do for the one I have," he answered. "_Gods_, she looks like her mother," he lamented, rubbing his face at the memory of his little Baeli, his perfect little _khalakki_. He had never thought he'd be so enchanted by a baby girl child, but Dany had given her to him, and he had fallen in love all over again.

Jorah felt a pang of longing and regret, it was plain on his face and in the silence that followed. Drogo knew that Jorah had wanted Daenerys, lusted after her at first, but it had been more before he left Vaes Dothrak. Drogo waited for a reply for a few minutes, but then said, "Come, a drink. I have some good shit hidden away in my tent. We need something to warm our bones from this fucking cold."

Several drinks later, Drogo wasn't sure that this was such a good idea. Jorah had grown quiet after awhile, staring at the horn that was half full of the_ lamekh _he had been drinking, and Drogo wasn't sure how to get him to talk. Fermented mare's milk had never failed to get him to start talking about anything. Not that he needed to talk out much, but it did make him joke and laugh easier when he didn't really feel like it.

"Hey. Dumbass. You're gonna stare at that or are you gonna fucking drink it?" Drogo slurred out.

Jorah snorted and downed it. "You have the most beautiful and precious woman in the world," he said quietly as Drogo refilled his horn.

"No shit. My heart tells me that every day." _Ah, we might be getting somewhere now. _He refilled his own. "And I'm grateful that she loves me the way I love her."

"Good . . . . . good," Jorah answered drunkenly. "I want a wife that loves me as yours does you. I would make her the happiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, or die trying."

"I don't have words of wisdom for you, Jorah Andal," Drogo used the nickname the knight had with the khalasar. "I don't know how I deserve her. I just work hard to make sure she knows I love her, and she shows me every day that she loves me."

"Is it that easy?" Jorah looked up hopefully.

_Oh Great fucking Stallion, a little relief here._ "Well, fuck, no," Drogo admitted, scratching his head for a moment. "It takes a lot of fucking work. Every day. It takes talking. It takes touch. It takes knowing when something must be done whether we want it or not."

"Like Viserys."

"Yeah, like that little worm. He ruined the celebration in her honor. She cried for three days after I carried her home that night. Non stop fucking crying for three fucking days. I was at my wit's end with what to do for her, but then realized that she wasn't crying for me to solve the problem, she was crying for me to comfort her, and so that is what I did." Drogo was glad to steer the conversation back from pathetic whining to constructive conversation. "Daenerys is the only woman I've ever cared to figure out. I was as a newborn colt trying to find the tit for the first time. Glad she threw me a clue once in awhile in pity for my sorry ass." He upended his horn and took a deep drink.

Jorah laughed aloud at that. "The mighty Khal Drogo fell for a little fifteen year old girl and she now rules his life."

"She's fucking eighteen now, dumb shit, and you're talking about the Mother of Dragons, and the true Queen of the Seven fucking Kingdoms," Drogo shot back drunkenly, and downed the rest of the horn of fermented milk. _Oh fuck, that feels good. _"Drink that or I will," he pointed at Jorah's drink.

Jorah grinned at him and took a long swallow. "You going to stay long in Riverrun?" he asked.

Drogo looked at him for a moment. "Not any longer than I have to," he answered. "I have shitty diapers to change, puke to clean up, and a boy who likes to throw hot coals around to see what will happen next. Oh, and he plays with dragons."

Jorah grew silent and swirled the last of his drink around in the horn. "I envy you," he said, staring at his drink.

"Fuck, don't. Baeli can shit her older brother to shame. It's disgusting, but Daenerys insists on feeding her," he joked. "We can find you a wife, Jorah. That's the easy part. It's keeping one happy that puts us all in such a damnable place."

Jorah nodded, and drained his horn and handed it back to Drogo. "I'm done for the night. We will be fighting tomorrow after so long on the road."

Drogo grabbed the horn from him, tossing in into the chest with the remainder of the _lamekh_ skins. "I will find you a wife if you want one that bad, Jorah," he offered drunkenly. "After the battle. I will send you back to Bear Island with a wife." He shut the case as Jorah stumbled out of the tent to his own.

* * *

Uhhh, ok. I have no idea where that came from. Seriously. This chapter happened after one glass of Seven Hills Merlot. So . . . flame me if you want, but I like it. I was dead set against Jorah being in this story (see earlier comments, a chapter while Dany and Drogo were in the Red Waste, I believe) but he has wiggled his way in and I am grudgingly allowing it. We'll see if he messes things up.


	29. Chapter 29

A bit of "Meanwhile, back at the dragon's lair" . . .

* * *

Dany paced the room, Baeli sound asleep in her carrier against Dany's chest. Her baby had grown so much in the past month while Dany waited for word, any word, about Drogo. Not a raven, not a messenger, nothing. Tyrion had tried comforting her with the knowledge that sending messages while traveling was more problematic than it seemed, ravens could have either been shot down by the enemy or simply not sent for that risk alone, and a rider was one less warrior on the battlefield. She had nodded and not said anything on the matter since, though her heart was aching for news.

The Lannister envoy had left in a rage barely two days after her talk and dinner with Tyrion. Not only had they been insulted and then denied their demands that she back down, but Tyrion had been the one to urge his uncle and relatives to leave before violence occurred. Dany refused to speak to them any further, enraged and fuming at their words and actions against her, insulting her at her own table. "If I were to go mad, I would burn Casterly Rock first," she had growled into her cup of mulled wine the night before they left. "I have been tolerant and hosted these people, these murderers and tyrants, but no more. Let's have Drogon escort them out, shall we?" Tyrion had jumped down from his seat across from her and sent a young knight of the household to deliver a message of farewell to them, and they were now two months gone. They had arrived at King's Landing with plenty of words about the Mother of Dragons, she was sure. Although she tried, she couldn't bring herself to care any more about the matter. They could threaten her all they liked from that far away. It was only a matter of time before they would be sent packing back to Casterly Rock, the ones that were left alive, that is. She relished the thought.

Rhaego played near the fireplace, stacking the coals with his fingers to tease Sansa. He had his father's sense of humor, the good natured teaser when he was happy, the wicked almost meanness when he was angry. He would be having his second nameday next week, and with it his first lesson with his hunting knife. His hair was almost long enough for a second tie, and Cohollo had asked her for the honor. She gladly gave it, knowing that if Drogo wasn't there to do it, Cohollo would have been Drogo's first choice to perform this important duty. It hurt, but there was a small consolation to it.

Sansa had had word from her mother a few weeks prior, a short letter from an exhausted Tully messenger, but it was happy. Robb was holed up at Riverrun with his army, waiting for Dany's reinforcements to arrive. He had married a young woman from Volantis, a Queen for the North, and she was pregnant. Catelyn Stark had expressed gratitude to Daenerys for all her hospitality and aid to her daughter, which Dany was pleased about, but not as pleased as she was for Robb and Talisa Stark. She couldn't help but think of the possibilities of a marriage between their children. Either Rhaego or Baeli would make an ideal match for their unborn child. It would seal Robb's power in the North, and Rhaego's power in the South if they were to bind their houses, a united and strong kingdom that would spell peace for everyone. She kept this hope a secret for now, not knowing how Drogo would feel about the matter. Well, she knew how he would feel about it if it were Baeli. _Not fucking happening_, she could hear him say, and it made her smile as she bent her head and kissed Baeli's soft platinum curls.

Sansa looked up from where she was playing with Rhaego. "You're pacing again," she said softly. "Sit for awhile. You're like the dragons when they're restless. News will come. I would say to stop worrying, but . . ." she trailed off.

"We both know I won't," Dany admitted. "I just wish there was _something _I could do . . . This gets worse every night . . . " she trailed off, and turned her attention to the fire, blinking fiercely.

Sansa wordlessly picked up Rhaego and brought him to his mother. He leaned out from Sansa's arms and kissed Dany on the cheek. "Mai," he said softly, and patted her cheek.

Dany grabbed his hand and pressed it against her skin tightly. "I love you, my son," she said, and kissed him back. She smiled gratefully at Sansa, and turned back to the fire for a moment before sitting in a low chair near it. She gently extracted Baeli from the carrier and adjusted her dress to feed her, finding comfort from nursing her baby. Baeli wasn't about to turn down a meal, either. She was gaining weight rapidly, her little arms and legs catching up to her brother's when he was her age, beautifully round little rolls of chubby baby girl. Drogo would be so pleased to see how much she'd grown. Dany pushed thoughts of him out of her mind for awhile, struggling to not cry with worry and longing. She bit her lip and stared at Baeli's little chubby cheeks and the serious frown on her little baby face marked by her brows as she nursed. Her eyes were changing color already, slate blue turning a light violet, so much like her own.

After Baeli had dropped off to sleep and was tucked into her bed, Dany scooped up Rhaego and settled him in the big bed with her. She always cuddled with him until he fell asleep. It felt good to have that time with him, and no matter how busy her days were, how much time she spent away from him, they always had that special time before bed, just the two of them. It made her miss the days of traveling with the khalasar a little, cuddling in her and Drogo's bed in their tent, just her and her little baby boy. Rhaego snuggled into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder as she curled up with him under the furs and blankets, his little hand coming up to rest on her cheek as he had always done.

She thought about getting up again after he drifted off, but as she glanced around the room, she saw Sansa was already in her own bed with a book in her hands. She would be nodding off soon, Dany realized, and knew she could do with an early night, too. She let herself drift off to sleep to the sounds of Sansa turning pages and Rhaego's snoring.

She woke in the dark, the fireplace burning low and red with glowing coals. Baeli was fussing for food, so she got up and tended to her quietly, sitting in her favorite chair next to the fireplace. She thought of Drogo and all the nights they had been together, and it made her ache. It was easier, in a way, that she had Baeli to nurse, because it kept her from wanting sex, and she imagined that if it had just been her and Rhaego left behind, things would have been much more unbearable. She smiled as she thought about it, though. Drogo was in a much more difficult position than she. All his sexual energy, and no women in his khalasar of warriors and knights. She supposed as they traveled, they would pick up a few women, 'camp followers', they were delicately called. Prostitutes. She knew what Drogo's life was like before their marriage, and decided long ago that it wasn't worth agonizing over. Now . . . she wondered if he would seek out a woman after the fighting was done. She knew that his appetite for her had been enormous after a fight, even after only sparring with other riders to keep in shape. He had been gone for most of her pregnancy with Baeli when her needs had been ravenous, but she had managed to keep herself in control. It was impossible to think of being with someone other than him, no matter what he was doing or where he was. She wondered if it would be the same for him.

She believed the stories of the lightning strike, told to her so long ago by Irri. Drogo had already begun ignoring other women by that point, not on purpose, but because he said they just had no appeal for him any longer. She was all he wanted. It made her worry a little because it was such an unusual thing for a Dothraki man to not take women as he chose, and it bothered her more that Drogo could possibly feel regret about it later, not that he would take another woman in the first place. She decided that if he could find satisfaction and comfort in sex with a camp follower while fighting a war, then she would not hold it against him. It hurt, but she would not deny him that. She was again grateful that she was nursing his daughter, it kept all urges and yearnings away from her body and mind while he was not with her. She imagined that the instant he was home, however, things would change drastically. She blushed at the thought of him standing in front of her, nude, with a raging erection that was for her alone as he had done before, letting her see how he felt for her before he learned the word for love. She could feel the heat rising in her face, but it made her snicker quietly in the darkness as Baeli nursed. Nothing happening.

Sleeping without him had proven to be another matter entirely. The bed was too big for just her and Rhaego, no matter how many pillows she tossed on Drogo's side of the bed. She missed his warmth and smell, his large arms that would pull her close and wrap around her if she was restless and needed relief from her dreams. It had been a long time since she'd had one of those dreams. She sighed and tucked Baeli back into her little bed, and returned to her own bed, Rhaego sprawled out and sideways, twitching and snoring.

Morning came earlier than she would have liked, and with it several decisions to be made with her small council. She packed up Baeli's things for the morning and kissed Rhaego as he ate his breakfast. "I'll be back soon," she whispered to him. He nodded, and pushed her face away so he could focus on his eggs. She laughed softly, and kissed him again just to antagonize him a little, letting him go when he squealed in displeasure at her interruption of his food.

"Sansa, you've been holed up in here for a month now. Take Rhaego for a walk outside," she urged. "Tyrion will be with me all morning, so you don't have to worry about seeing him, and who else but a Lady of Winterfell to teach Rhaego about snow?" She winked at them, and Sansa smiled back at her happily around her mouthful of toast. "Rhaego has warm things hanging next to mine, but let him get cold, too. It won't hurt him to know the other extreme," she added.

Satisfied, Dany plucked Baeli up from her blanket on the floor, and carried her down the vast corridors and steps to her small council chambers. Greeted warmly by Tyrion and a hot cup of tea, she settled Baeli on her lap and sipped while waiting for Ser Barristan and Maester Pylos. The rest of the lords and knights were with Drogo on their way to Riverrun. It seemed that so many of the people she was just getting used to seeing were now gone, and for a moment, she had a sinking feeling that there were many she wouldn't see again. She chased the somber thought out of her mind with another sip of tea and then a quick kiss to Baeli's forehead.

Business underway, she voiced her concern that they had heard nothing from their army. "The sea voyage should have taken no more than two weeks," she reminded them, standing over the enormous table that had all of Westeros and Essos etched out perfectly. She shifted Baeli in her arms so she could reach out and touch the planned landing point. "They should have landed here three weeks ago."

"Your Grace, the dangers of sending a raven may have just been too great," Tyrion reminded her. "A bird cannot know the difference between enemy lands or allied ones, it flies where it will with messages."

Ser Barristan nodded slowly. "If the sea was too dangerous, they also could have gone further out to sea to avoid the coast, Your Grace. Or," he moved around the table to stand next to her. "They could have landed here instead." He pointed north of Crackclaw Point, to Gulltown, part of the Vale. She had well over two hundred knights from the Vale in total, though most were with Drogo. A few remained in Dragonstone to prevent a fight on their doorstep, and lent a great deal of peace of mind to Drogo before he left. "They would be undertaking a dangerous trek through those rocks to get back to the Trident, but it would be safer than landing at Saltpans as Khal Drogo wanted."

She nodded slowly. "So, waiting is what we do, then," she sighed. "I'm learning war is a waiting game, a test of patience and wisdom as much as a test of strength and action."

Ser Barristan nodded slowly. "Your brother Rhaegar would agree with you wholeheartedly, Your Grace. He was a master of tactics."

"But he was still felled like a tree by the Usurper," she answered him. "I do not want that for Drogo."

"Of course not, Your Grace. Give him time, and your news will come." She sighed, and accepted his gentle pat of her hand, the fatherly way he squeezed her fingers in comfort. _Aerys' little girl, ruling with a wise and gentle hand, could use all the love and support she was denied her entire childhood_. Ser Barristan Selmy carried a lot of guilt about what happened to her father. He was the Captain of his Kingsguard, and still let a 17 year old Jaime Lannister get his first taste of blood on his sword. The plan had been for Rhaegar to come _home_, and then take his father's place on the Iron Throne, sending Aerys to Dragonstone with Rhaella and Viserys and an unborn Daenerys. He shuddered at the memory of Rhaella crying in the night, Aerys raping her the night Daenerys was conceived. He shuddered at his own feeling of helplessness as his king descended into the very pits of madness. But, Daenerys was born. She lived, and her every breath brought her loyal Captain of her Queensguard a new burst of fatherly pride.

"I wish the dragons were bigger," she lamented for the hundredth time.

"We need to either purchase more cattle or start using more of our lands, speaking of dragons, Your Grace. They, along with the extra mouths that have now gone, have left a sizeable dent in our winter food supplies," Tyrion answered, effectively bringing up the last issue for the day.

"What are my options, Tyrion? Have we coin and the means to bring more cattle here?" She was glad she listened to the maester and had kept Tyrion. Maester Pylos had been right, Tyrion was looking for a way out, and had graciously accepted her offer to stay on at Dragonstone.

"We do," he answered, putting down his wine. "However, as your Master of Coin, it's my job to keep as much coin IN your purse as possible. It would be wiser to open up the lands on Driftmark. The islanders surrendered it with Dragonstone when you retook your home. Plenty of room there for raising food while we take care with what grains we have left."

"Well, thank the gods the Lannisters have gone," she teased gently. "Now I just have the one wine consumer left to handle."

He raised his cup in a mock salute before drinking what was left in it. "Your wine cellars are unmatched, Your Grace. The cellars were empty and used for storage under Stannis. Those beautiful rooms thank you for restoring them to their original purpose."

"I think you are the one thanking me, Lord Tyrion," she jested, and finished her now cold tea. "My Lords, if this is all for today, I mean to join my son and caregivers for a late lunch."

They all rose and she carefully lifted a sleepy Baeli from her bed. A Dothraki crib had mysteriously appeared in the room not long before Drogo left, and she was grateful for his forethought. Baeli had benefited greatly from her father's attention to detail, too. It was good for her, as small as she was and though she slept through most of the proceedings, to know the workings of her own stronghold. Dragonstone would be hers when Rhaego took the Iron Throne. _Oh Drogo, come home before she outgrows her little bed_, Dany prayed fervently. _Come home before she forgets the comfort and love of her father's arms._

* * *

Next up . . . does Khal Drogo help win the battle at Harrenhal? Or . . . is it over? Either way, they've had a good run here, don't you think? ;)


	30. Chapter 30

*Shrug* I'm happy how this turned out. :)

* * *

_Snow is the fucking worst plague to ever hit the land_, Drogo decided. He tugged at his heavy fur cloak, removing it and tying it down to the back of his saddle. It was a pain in the ass wearing so many clothes. A man could barely move. It was cold with just a leather vest, the snow falling wet and cold on his bare arms and shoulders, but at least he could move freely. He waited with the rest of the large envoy outside the walls of Harrenhal.

Drogo watched as the gate to Harrenhal opened, the knights within surrendering after the two week siege. The khalasar had cut off their supplies, and had fired arrows so numerous that it seemed to be raining. The forest around them had supplied them well, he observed, proud that his khalasar had already proven themselves worthy of the cause they fought for. They had prepared for it to take as much as a month of siege at the walls of Harrenhal, laying in both provisions and arrows as they waited for the surrender.

He rode at the front of the envoy sent into the walls, his hand on the handle of his arakh, not trusting the surrender. Anything could happen with desperate men, especially frightened, desperate men. He had seen men do insane things and survive when in situations like this. Ser Jorah rode next to him, and was of the same mind as his hand rested on the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Their eyes met just before they rode through the gates, and Drogo had given him a nod before passing in front of him.

As more and more of the Dothraki and Robb's men entered the stronghold, he glanced up at the walls. He knew immediately that a dragon had been at work here at some point, the very stone melted and gone. He thought of Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. Those fuckers would be able to do this shit soon, he realized, glad that his wife and children were in absolutely no danger from them. When it came down to the final night at home, the dragons were the only things convincing him that his family would truly be safe while he was gone. Rhaego's pets, he thought, rolling his eyes. It seemed fitting, however, that the Stallion Who Mounts the World would have dragons as pets at the tender age of two.

"Arya!" he heard a man shout as they entered the large open courtyard. Jorah's blacksmith had called out, and grabbed a dirty and ragged young boy as he ran past the horses.

"Gendry!" the boy screamed, and Drogo realized he was looking at a young girl. He knew the name, too. Who was Arya . . . he ruffled through his brain. Sansa's sister. Arya is a Stark. "Where did you go? What happened when that woman took you?"

"I was at Dragonstone, there was a siege, Daenerys Targaryen took back her home . . . "

"Arya," he shouted, overpowering the blacksmith. "Come here."

She stopped in her tracks, looking from Gendry to Drogo, conflicted.

"Come," he said, and dismounted his horse, reaching for the girl. She looked nothing like Sansa. He wondered if he had the right girl, but became aware of the deafening silence around them, and it set him on edge. Something was wrong. Time seemed to slow down as he reached for Arya, and his scalp suddenly tingled with the knowledge he was about to be in the middle of a fight.

He heard it before he saw it, and as he turned to face the sound, he already had his arakh in his hand and swinging back at the blade screaming in the air for him. _Sneaky little motherfucke_r. Such stealth tactics were without honor for Dothraki men. He shoved Arya back with one hand to get her out of the way, deflecting the first blow with ease, but before he could recover, the sword was coming at him from a different angle. As fast as he could deflect, more blows kept coming, and he was just barely able to keep up with his opponent. The knight was vicious and fast, despite his heavy armor. Drogo's red stallion screamed and reared before running out of harm's way. The men of Harrenhal were making such a noise that he knew it was meant to distract him. Too fucking bad, this is what he knew to do better than anything else. Unfortunately, so did his opponent, his attacks ferocious and skilled in his desire for blood.

Drogo struggled, but somehow managed to unsheathe his longsword after a few blocked strikes as he defended from his attacker, and then he knew he had the man. By swinging defensively with the arakh, he was able to swing the longsword to strike back, steel hitting steel. He roared for the whole castle to hear as he began to get the upper hand, slashing and dancing with this swordsman, forcing the man to back up toward the wall behind him, horses and men scattering to get out of the way. Drogo knew he had him then, and switched tactics, using the longsword for defense and swinging his trusty arakh for the killing blow.

Time seemed to slow down again, and he realized he was no longer in a fight for his life; his opponent was. The crowd grew quiet as they began to watch their man struggle to hold his position, losing ground as he began to tire. Drogo wasn't tired at all, and roared with laughter as he forced the man back with every swing of his arakh, every push with the long blade. "You come against Khal Drogo, snake vomit," he laughed, taunting the man in Dothraki. "You will die here in this mud!"

He toyed with the knight, showing off and watching him tire, striking out at his legs and arms just to watch the man try to defend himself before Drogo decided that the battle was over. He reached out with the arakh, such a slight move, and cut neatly along the bevor just below the helmet, the blade thin and sharp enough to get between the seam of metal. A crimson spray filled the gray space between them, and the knight fell to his knees after a moment, his sword atttack suddenly deflecting off like he'd forgotten what he was doing. The armor he was wearing had not a scratch on it, a gold filigree patterned on it in a show of wealth and skill, but now was marred by dark crimson blood.

Drogo knelt on one knee in front of him, using his foot to pin his opponent's weapon down, and lifted the visor of the helmet. Golden hair, and a distinctly Lannister face looked back at him in surprise. "I've never been hit before . . . " the man whispered hoarsely, blood in his mouth and on his lips.

"You will die of a hit now," Drogo answered him in the Common Tongue. "The stars are charging for you." He brought the arakh to the man's throat and sent him to ride forever in the Nightlands.

Someone screamed out in horror, "You've killed Jaime Lannister!" and a roar of cheers rose up from Robb's men and his own khalasar. Drogo stood up and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Jaime Lannister?" he roared back, looking around at all the men surrounding him. "I killed a snake's cunt! _That_ was the famous Jaime Lannister? Send a true fighter out to greet me with a blade, you fucking women!" He spat on the mud and held up his blades, laughing aloud at the panicked silence of Harrenhal's men. "Send out Tywin Lannister. He has a son to burn today, and an army to surrender after his duty!" He whistled for his horse, and sheathed his weapons before mounting.

He turned to leave the stronghold, but stopped. "Arya Stark!" he called out. The young girl stepped out of the crowd, and eyed him critically. He grinned down at her. "Your sister Sansa dines with my wife and children. Come," he held out his hand, and she grinned back at him as she took it. He swung her up on his red stallion behind him. "I am here to take you to your mother and brother in Riverrun. We will find you a horse."

As they rode for camp, he began to wish he had left her with the blacksmith. Questions and more questions. He tried to keep it to one word or not answer at all if he could. Finally, she demanded to know where they were going. "Camp," he answered with a grunt. "Who are you anyways?" she asked, and he laughed out loud. "Who am I? I am Khal Drogo. I am husband to Daenerys Targaryen. She sent me to war, and I mean to bring the Seven Kingdoms back to Targaryen rule under my wife, and my son after her."

"Sansa is at Dragonstone? How did she get there?" He didn't answer her, and she went quiet for a time. "The last Targaryen king burned my grandfather and uncle," she said finally.

"Yes. He was insane. Daenerys is not. She has both wit and kindness. She will make a queen that will be loved until her last breath, as she deserves to be," he answered, the one truth he would know until his dying day.

"They say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to find whether the baby will grow to be sane or mad," she observed.

"Her brother Viserys was the other side of that coin, little girl. A cruel, mad, and unjust man," he replied. "Best killing I'd ever done, except today, was the day I gave him his crown."

"A crown? You killed him with a crown?" Arya sounded very confused.

"I melted the gold, and poured it over his head," he clarified. "He held a sword to my unborn son. A blade in Vaes Dothrak is forbidden by itself, and he threatened my world. He had to die."

She was silent for several minutes. "How big are the dragons?" she finally asked, changing the subject.

"The size of large wolves when I left. Tywin's brother was almost roasted for their lunch. Daenerys grabbed Drogon by the snout and clamped his mouth shut to keep him from killing everyone in the Hall," he said, laughing at the memory.

Then came the next round of questions about dragons. More questions about Daenerys. Finally, questions about his children. "Rhaego is my son, he will sit on the Iron Throne before too much longer," he said.

"Better a toddler than Joffrey," she answered immediately. "We heard a rumor that he was born with dragon wings."

"No. A healthy and beautiful boy was born that night. Not a monster. Do not bring this up to Daenerys. It hurts her. She's heard the rumors of your King's Landing."

"Of course not. I will meet her?" Arya seemed excited with the prospect.

"I plan to go home to her soon, with your brother Robb and mother, too. Sansa would like to be with her mother and brother, I'm sure," Drogo pointed out.

"Where's Gendry?"

He grunted in question, tired of answering her questions. _Who the fuck is she talking about now? Does she ever shut up?_

"The boy that came with you. Where is he?" _Oh, ha! Boyfriend. Bit young for that, isn't she? She can't be more than, well, fuck, twelve. _He admitted that Daenerys was scarcely a few years older when he married her. He briefly wondered if Dany had ever had a boyfriend or a crush before her brother gave her away as though she had been worthless. He sighed to himself. No sense in going down that road. Viserys was good and dead. He couldn't hurt her any more.

"Following behind us somewhere," he answered casually. "He will be at camp tonight and you can talk him to death then. Is he yours?"

"No," she said sullenly. "He's . . . my friend."

"How does Arya Stark make friends with a blacksmith, hundreds of miles apart?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then stop your questions."

She rode silently behind him after that, and quickly slid down the red stallion's side when they stopped in camp and he dismounted. She reached out and patted the horse. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Doesn't have one. Big fucker is a tool of war, not a pet."

"So . . . Big Red Fucker, is it?" she asked, teasing him.

He shrugged. "I don't call him anything. Lazy Fucker when he won't go, but that's about it."

She laughed, and patted the horse again. "It's three weeks to Riverrun," she said conversationally, but gave up when he just grunted at her and started to loosen the girth on the saddle.

Drogo watched the girl walk away, heading straight toward Lord Umber's tent. He guessed she knew it from the banners on it, symbols of the different families. The black banner with the gray wolf on it was the Stark banner. He rather liked his own banner, the black background with the red, three headed dragon with a red, running horse in the background. Targaryen and Dothraki. There would be a crown on it somewhere after the victory, he supposed. He grinned at the thought of adding a gold crown to it. Daenerys wouldn't laugh, but he liked the joke.

He turned the red loose and went to his own tent to tend to his weapons. He hated the snow and water and blood on his weapons, and oiled them again to seal all that shit out before it could ruin the good steel. He sat in the dark of his tent and wiped them all down before lighting a brazier against the cold and dark. He wanted Daenerys. He had fought for his life that afternoon, and nothing made the day better than having a woman after a fight. If she were here, her hot skin pressing against his . . . he stopped, pushing thoughts of her away. It would do no good to wish or dream right now. He wanted a woman in his bed, now. The camp girls were ass ugly, though, and he couldn't bring himself to go get one. Even if he bent her over to take what he wanted, it didn't seem right. He didn't want to go home to Daenerys with the feel of another woman in his memory. The thought made him uncomfortable, nearly as uncomfortable as his pants.

He remembered a time when it didn't matter to him, how many women he fucked. He had an itch, and they scratched it, end of story. Then came little trembling Daenerys with hair as bright as the summer morning sun, sweet little innocent Daenerys who had cried when he touched her. He would never forget that. It changed him more than he wanted to admit. He had obsessed over her for two moons before they had finally started figuring out their lives together. He had taken other women during that time, some right in front of her to show her how good it could be, but she would quickly turn away, and he just didn't enjoy it much with anyone else anymore. She was all he wanted. Cohollo had jested with him about the lightning, and at first he took it just as goodnatured teasing, but as time wore on, he became aware of how true it really was, and it scared him a little. He hadn't been truly frightened of anything since he was a year gone into the boy's camp and he was beaten by an older boy with a knife. Drogo's hand unconsciously went up to the scar on his brow and rubbed it in remembrance. He'd killed the older boy with his own knife, and that was the end of Bharbo's son being challenged.

Daenerys had never asked him about it, but he could clearly remember how it felt to have her little fingers tenderly trace along it. Those fingers, that _mouth_. Fuck, he'd almost had his cock under control, but not anymore. He groaned and sat back on the bed a little, and let his hand wander down to casually stroke himself. _Daenerys_. Riding the silver mare. Laying in the high grass and laughing after they'd fucked. Watching her eat the heart, _fuck that was a proud moment._ Her belly swollen and ripe with Rhaego, her breasts barely fitting into her vest. Beautiful and crying and holding him in the tub just minutes after he was born. Sitting on this very bed and nursing him, breasts larger than he'd ever seen them. All pink and glowing and healthy while pregnant with Baeli, how her face had crunched up in concentration as she had pushed their little girl out into the world. Her expression when he would touch her softly and she would cry out in pleasure right here in this bed, _oh fucking seven hells riding to the Nightlands . . . _He laid back, gasping for air and searched for a cloth to clean himself up. He felt immensely relieved, but not any better. _I want my wife. _


	31. Chapter 31

Dany sat at the small table she shared with Sansa and Rhaego, picking at her breakfast. The only food she ate these days was purely for Baeli's benefit, her anxiety at the lack of news growing every day. It had been five months since Drogo had last been on their bed and sharpened his arakh for war, and Maester Pylos was growing concerned with her thinning figure, but no matter the flavor or type of tea he used to stimulate her appetite, she couldn't bring herself to do more than she was, she was so worried about Drogo. Even Tyrion's repeated assurances that if Drogo was indeed dead, they would have heard by now, and she knew the khalasar would have brought his body back to her to be burned, it did no good. The endless days of nothing were wearing her down. He could be sick, he could be injured and not said anything to anyone, he could be freezing with the army dying around him . . .

The large ironwood door rattled lightly as someone tapped on the door, jerking her from her dark and miserable thoughts. "Yes?" she called, setting her fork down, her eggs barely touched.

"It's Maester Pylos, Khaleesi," her young _kha_ announced. Only half grown boys were left to her now, she had sent most of her _khas_ to war with Drogo, knowing every man would help, and she knew they were itching to fight, not stay behind with her. It was an easy decision to make, but more difficult were her goodbyes to Jhiqui and a few other women who had chosen to go with their men, "_It is the way of the khalasar_," Jhiqui had said sadly. "_I go where he goes._" She was relieved that Irri and Doreah had stayed behind, but she scarcely saw them as she was so busy. Sansa had taken over Rhaego from Irri, and Irri seemed relieved to not have to spend so much time with the dragons and preventing Rhaego from playing in the fireplace. Dany idly wondered which lucky boy Irri lured into her bed to keep her company while Rhakaro was gone.

"Send him in, please," she invited, putting a smile on her face to keep him from fussing over her more than he was already going to do._ So tired._

She immediately rose from the table as he stepped into the warm room, an expression on his face that she had never seen before. She stepped closer to the fireplace, gaining strength from the warmth in the hearth. "What's wrong, Maester?" she asked, suddenly feeling her heart sink like a rock into her gut. She felt ill, and dizzy, and she immediately grabbed hold of the stone mantel to keep from falling over. It irritated her that she felt so weak and sick, but she knew she wouldn't feel whole again until Drogo was safely home.

"A Tully messenger, Your Grace," Maester Pylos answered, reaching out to her with a rolled parchment in his hand, unopened. "I have not read it, as it's addressed to you alone. This is your news, I imagine."

Her heart leapt into her throat before plummeting to her stomach. She started to shake as she fumbled to take the message from the maester, and she dropped it. Sansa swept over to her and picked up the letter, took Dany's hand and placed it in her grasp before closing Dany's fingers around it. "Or would you rather I read it, Daenerys?" she asked softly, smiling softly as Dany nodded and passed the message back to her.

Dany paced the room while Sansa read the letter first to herself, then found a seat on the edge of her bed and waited. Sansa's eyes met hers, and she began to read.

_"Daenerys, it took me two . . . _uh_ . . . days,_" I'm not reading what it says, I'm NOT! "_to find someone who could write this for me. We have taken Harrenhal. Jaime Lannister is dead. I will tell the tale to our son when I see him next. Tywin is a very . . . _um_ . . . bad hostage and he uses all my patience to not gut him before giving him to Robb. Riverrun is only a few more days away and we will be there quickly. It snows. It's_ ._ . . _ah_ . . . very cold."_ Sansa stopped reading. "Must he always use words like that?" She demanded, flushing brightly pink, and giggled at Dany's nod and grin. _"I love you, . . . _something in Dothraki I can't read_ . . . and I want to see my children and you soon. We will be marching to Dragonstone, you can meet Robb and get this . . . _uhm, stuff_ . . . done. I want to come home. Kiss Baeli for me, and tell Rhaego that he is the brightest star in my skies."_

Dany reached for the parchment then, and read it again to herself, smiling, tears coursing down her face. "He's alive. Thank the Seven and the Great Stallion, he's alive," she sobbed, and rose from her seat, throwing her warm dressing gown over her dress that hung on her like she was merely a wire figure.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find some damn parchment and ink to respond," she answered, still crying and trying to wipe her eyes. "I don't want the messenger to leave without a reply!"

The maester was waiting for her in the hallway, and he smiled as she joined him. "The Tully messenger won't be going anywhere for at least a day, Your Grace. He is exhausted. He's come far in a very short time."

"Feed him, and show him to a warm and comfortable room. Replace his horse with one of our strongest Dothraki horses." she said immediately.

"Already done, Your Grace. A few more knights from the Vale and King's Landing are preparing for Riverrun with your leave."

"No, they stay. It seems that our King Robb will be coming here, with his family. Well, after they overtake the retreating Lannister army. Jaime Lannister is dead. Tywin is now a hostage. The war is over, Maester." She sounded happier than she had done in months.

"No, it is not. You must still take King's Landing, Your Grace," Tyrion replied, coming out of the large library.

"Tyrion, I'm sorry about your brother. I will know the details of his death for you soon," she said suddenly, turning to him. She felt badly for him, as Tyrion had said that Jaime was often the only one to defend him as they grew up.

"Knowing Jaime, he most likely finally provoked a fight with a man that could strike back," he said, grimacing as he said it, knowing who Jaime probably targeted, thinking he could take on Khal Drogo and win. "You still have the King's Guard, my sister, and her son to deal with. The fight isn't over yet."

"With a Northern army in addition to the khalasar and my own knights marching down on them? They would still fight and not surrender?" she asked, incredulous. Faced with the khalasar alone, Dany would have surrendered, but maybe it was because she knew that they weren't just savages on horses.

"They have ships, troops, and will burn the city to the ground before they let you have it," he answered her truthfully. "I don't like it, but there it is."

"Then we burn them first," she answered, feeling the heat coil and rise in her belly and flush her face.

Tyrion grinned at the thought, but counseled against it. "Drogon may very well be big enough to start a skirmish, My Lady, and the other two would certainly join him, but that may not be the wisest course of action. They're still small enough that some brave and stupid man could kill them all, and Rhaego needs his pets, and you need their protection."

She nodded slowly, letting Tyrion's rationality overtake her hotheadedness. When was a daughter of Dragonstone not hotheaded, though? "I suppose," she admitted slowly.

"Now, you've had your news," Maester Pylos began. "You must attend to the needs of your body, Your Grace. I don't want your lord husband coming after _me_ for not looking after _you_. What would you like prepared for you?"

She smiled at that. "See if any of the Dothraki women have food already made. I'll eat whatever they're having and consider it a celebratory feast, Maester."

Tyrion made a surprised noise. "Horsemeat, Your Grace?" he teased, pretending to be horrified.

"Most likely," she laughed, the sound unfamiliar to her ears. "Sometimes, when it was available and a celebration happened, there was wild boar. Very good after a long period of hunger," she answered him.

"Did you often go hungry in the khalasar, Daenerys?" he asked, more quietly.

She looked up in surprise. "What? No! I never had want for anything after I married Drogo. It was one of the first things I grew to appreciate about . . . our situation. I mean, about him. I only meant . . . before I married him. It was a long stretch of years that I was hungry, but not just for food. I was starved of many things, but with Drogo I have learned how to nourish more than just my body, Lord Tyrion."

He nodded in surprise that she was actually talking about her years with Viserys. She had always gone to great lengths in the past to avoid this very subject. "After Ser Willem Darry died, what happened to you and Viserys?"

She sighed, and looked away briefly. "We stayed in Braavos, in his house, until the servants took what little there was left and threw us out. I was five, Viserys fourteen. He was left to raise me all alone. It was then that things started to go badly for him. We hid a lot, and often went cold and hungry. The snow was the worst. I watched the beggars on the docks, and learned how to do it. I managed to bring in some coin for us, because I was so young many people took pity on me, but when he found out how I was earning it, he beat me pretty badly. I remember being sore for days afterward,' she admitted.

"You were five, and trying to be the grown up and take care of your teenaged brother," Tyrion said, marveling at the strength of the woman before him.

She shrugged. "I only did what I had to. I was hungry, too," she said, defending her brother. "He wasn't always . . . I remember he could be so very loving and kind." She told him briefly about the night in the freezing mud, Viserys' insistence that his baby sister not sleep in the icy cold filth. _'You're a princess. The rightful princess to Dragonstone and the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys. You should be sleeping in a warm bed of silk and down quilts, not out here in the snow. Come here. You're a princess.' _She shivered at the memory.

"After that winter, we found a ship that would take us away from Braavos if Viserys would work as a Captain's boy for the voyage. The previous one had died of fever and left the captain in need of a replacement. So, we ended up in Volantis after a long voyage, I don't know how many months it was, it was so long, but I remember being afraid of the land when we got there. Viserys didn't make a very good Captain's boy, so we were left to beg again, finally selling our mother's crown for food," she seemed lost in thought. She had pushed down all these memories for so long. "The money didn't last very long, though, and then we were taken in by a merchant from somewhere, I don't remember, but there was a house with food. A woman scrubbed me down and gave me a dress to wear, and threw away the rags I was wearing. She fed me and held me, and I slept in a clean bed all to myself," she remembered this part with a wistful smile. "I wish I could remember her name. I remember she had to oil my hair and finally cut it to get all the knots out, it took hours, and she held me and rocked me like I was her own."

"What then, Your Grace?" Tyrion prompted gently, hoping to get her to continue.

"We were there less than a year. Viserys didn't like to stay in one place too long, so he just woke me in the middle of the night one night and we left. I cried then entire time we walked. I missed my warm bed and someone truly looking out for me." She left out the part where Viserys had repeatedly slapped her when her sobs got too loud for his liking. "We drifted between begging and staying with a quickly dwindling number of Targaryen supporters. I never knew when I would be shaken awake in the middle of the night to move on. Finally, we were taken to Magister Illyrio Mopatis in Pentos, and he is the one who arranged for Drogo to leave Vaes Dothrak to see if I would make a good wife for him. Viserys gave me away to Drogo instead of taking me for himself as our family has always done." She stopped there, looking to Tyrion for a reaction, some sort of response.

He gave her a gentle smile, meant to reassure her that she was not mistaken in trusting him. "How did he die, Daenerys? Drogo says it's your story, not his. There is a book of your lineage that needs his spot filled with the manner of his death."

"Keeping the Dragon's records, are we?" she asked, her voice more bitter than teasing now.

He smiled kindly. "If you wish it, yes," he said simply. "Or I can bring the book to you and you can put the words to the vellum yourself."

She returned his smile, though tears were forming in her eyes. "I think I'd rather tell you than try to record it," she answered. "But, please, don't judge him too harshly in our history book." She then abbreviated the tale of Viserys' golden crown, the unlawful sword he had pointed at her pregnant belly, the threats of a drunken and tormented madman, and Drogo's silent request for permission to finally kill him.

"What happened afterward?"

She took a deep breath and looked up toward the ceiling, fighting her tears. "I . . . I cried for days. Days and days, I'm not sure how many. Drogo was kind enough to build Viserys a pyre and burn him as our ancestors have always done, and the Dothraki do as well. Ser Jorah Mormont had something to do with it, I expect. I didn't know about it until after it was done. It was all I could do to _breathe_. At first, I was mourning the loss of the only family I had ever known, but after a day or so, it was about how relieved I was that he was gone, that he couldn't hurt me any longer. I felt so guilty that I was rejoicing in my brother's death, and Drogo was very angry with me, or so I thought at the time, that I couldn't manage to stop crying. He was truly upset, but he was angry that he felt helpless to do anything for me. He was worried that I was going to cry myself into a miscarriage and we would lose Rhaego. Eventually, we figured it out, but then I was in the market place and was nearly poisoned . . . it seemed the next thing I knew, we were on the road to war."

Tyrion decided to keep quiet about the assassination attempt. It would do no good to vilify a man already traveling well down the road of redemption. Ser Jorah had faithfully returned to his duty as a bannerman of the Starks, and was working tirelessly to bring Daenerys to her throne. There seemed to be an issue of Her Grace thinking the throne was Rhaego's and not her own. Tyrion wanted _her_ to sit there, and badly. She would be a just and kind ruler, wise beyond her years to the hardships of the poorest, and knew how to run a stronghold as big as Dragonstone at the tender age of 18. Joffrey could barely wipe his own ass without sniveling about it. She should be Queen, and Tyrion was going to try and put her there with all the power he possessed.

* * *

I think things are slowly improving. Time will tell.


End file.
